Stupid House Stuff

'Sup? Work has started on the Not-So-Great Kitchen Project '09. The Crack committed suicide last Wednesday (the 9th) by finally crashing to the kitchen floor (luckily not taking out a cat in the process) and scaring the bejeesus out of me. It sounded like a whole bunch of plates falling and shattering. It was looooooud. I was upstairs at the time and as I made my way downstairs to see what the hell happened (while actually saying "What the hell happened"), I was met on the stairs by Oliver who's eyes were like huge saucers and Molly who's tail was a giant bushy mess. They were on their way up to go hide under the bed which as any cat will tell you, is by far the best hiding space no matter what the threat. House on fire? Hide under the bed. Ceiling crashing to the floor? Go hide under the bed. Huge bed-moving monster from Planet Eatonlyhidingcats? Your best bet is to hide under the bed.

I must admit that I immediately blamed these two for whatever had been broken since they are most likely the culprits whenever there anything is broken in the house. "Oh, you little assholes," I yelled at them. "What the fuck did you do now?" When I got to the first floor and surveyed the living room, everything looked in order. The TV was fine (which was my first thought when I heard the crash. I figured they'd smashed my favorite appliance in the whole wide world) and Morticia was sitting on the couch looking guilty. Granted, she always looks guilty though. "What was that noise, miss lady?" I asked her. She did a little "MMMmmmmrrrow?" thing but totally did not answer my question. She's been around us for over 15 years now and she still cannot speak a work of English. Whatta dope.

I turned to go into the kitchen and was greeted with what was left of The Crack. A decent-sized chunk of the ceiling had come crashing down and I now had shattered plaster and debris everywhere in the kitchen. There was still some crumbs tumbling down from the 2 foot by 1.5 foot hole in the ceiling. "Oh motherfuck", I groaned. The Crack had become The Hole. "Good thing the contractor dude is coming on Monday." I swept up all the junk and wondered just how it was possible that for 11 years I avoided fixing this stupid thing. The Hole responded by dumping more tufts of horse hair and plaster crumbs on my freshly swept floor.

And so yesterday Mike the Contractor came and made The Crack which became The Hole into The Patch. I think the proper noun status of The Patch will be very short lived as Mike moves forward with blending the patch into the rest of the ceiling, priming and then painting everything to match. It's gonna look pissah. Or at the very least, so much less shitty. What about the mudroom? Well, that room is going to be turned into...are you ready for this? A mudroom. I know. Fucking brilliant right? Previously this room was used as kitchen/pantry overflow and pot and pan storage. But since I took everything out of there so that the contractors can patch, prime and paint the space, The Wiff has decided that she'd much rather have that space used as it was originally intended and she'll find another space to put all the kitchen detritus. I'm all for that idea and we are going to look at bench things so that one can sit and take off/put on one's boots and such. It's like we're real-live yuppie douches!

 From top to bottom: The Hole soon after The Crack killed himself.
                                     The Hole with the ceiling fan (naked ceiling fan! ooh! scandalous!).
                                     The Patch with just mud.
                                     The Patch with some texture (soon to be painted and blended).

Also, The Wiff has given me my Christmas present a little early this year. We have this chair that I bought from the AMVETS thrift store in Allston back in 1994 for $25. I carried that bad boy home upside on my head (the chair, not me) and it rules. I used to call it the Archie Bunker Chair but that's not really accurate since it's a rocker. We've carted it from apartment to apartment and finally to the house. It had this horrible fabric but up until the introduction of Oliver the cat, not one rip had shown up. Oliver made quick work of the front right corner of the chair, shredding the fabric and exposing the yellowing foam beneath. And that's how it sat, looking sad and unloved for a couple more years. When the Wiff asked me what I'd like for Christmas this year, I asked her to get the chair reupholstered. And so a couple a days ago the new cushions (and 3 pillows to boot) were delivered and the old chair has new life! Check it. The pics don't really do it justice (it doesn't look that shiny in person).

naked chair (oooh! risque!)                                                 

New cushions and somewhat fancy pillow!