I have a confession to make. Today I went to Lowes and had impure thoughts about semi-custom kitchen cabinets. I oggled the cherry doors. I fondled the smooth Silestone countertops. I even went so far as to fantasize about them in my own home, replacing the old, tired '80s cabinets I'm currently chained to.
And then I noticed the gap between the doors on one of the cupboards. The sleek, too-new look of the fake beadboard. The vintage appearance that just wasn't vintage.
Nobody I know ever bought a house that needed to be redone from top to bottom. I'd read about how difficult it is, understood that it takes time. Somehow I guess I thought that that only afflicted other people, and that our house would be a wonderful, happy endeavor. Obviously I can be a little too optimistic, resulting in a temporary suspension of rational thought.
I do love our house. Really. I know it will be great when it's done, and I'll be able to look back with pride and know that we did just about everything ourselves. But all of that is a long way away. I didn't realize that I'd end up with tools and dust in every room of the house. I didn't realize that there would be days I'd wake up and absoloutely despise the house. I didn't know it would take over so much of my spare time and insinuate itself into just about every decision I make. Or that I'd get used to an office with a bare, unfinished wood floor and half-unpapered walls. I never thought I'd go over to someone's house and marvel that it is finished. And I certainly never imagined I'd be standing in the cabinet aisles of Lowes fantasizing about a prefab kitchen.
I feel dirty just remembering...