Bee Ing Irresponsible

If there were 50 monkeys all trained in what I do banging out 50 pages a minute for the next week and a half I still wouldn't be able to meet my pending deadline. One might suspect that being faced with this challenge (read: insurmountable task) and the prospect of both failing miserably at my first major assignment at New Job and not being able to pay the new and gigantorious mortgage would be more than enough to inspire focus and all kinds of occasion rising, but alas here I am, writing to you and continuing to not work.

You are the anti-ritalin, has anyone ever told you that?

I, in fact, spent the overwhelming majority of the extended weekend successfully avoiding doing any work whatsoever until B sat me down and with pointed finger and furrowed brow insisted that I stay put until I produced something (and apparently burping did not satisfy that requirement).

The discovery that you've been doing absolutely everything wrong for as far back as you can remember takes a lot out of a person, and I was exhausted from the realization. I did, however, snag and organize some photos for you of the near-complete kitchen, which I know is all you care about. Well, that and picking fights on the interwebs.








So, let us recap, shall we?

This is how the kitchen looked when we first met.
Not good. Just ...not good at all.

Seriously, Mr. Sanford, what's up with the goo-caked sink and the trash everywhere?





This is the wall on the outside of the kitchen where we decided there should not be a wall. But then we thought,
"well, we just painted the wall... maybe we should save some money and keep the wall for now"...?



B puncturing said wall with a broom pretty much sealed the deal.




It was very exciting when the wall came down.
We all wore our best work whistles.

And to think, it all started with just a little broomhole.



I like to call this one "The Donna Special" 'cause the dangling uglyphone cracks her up big time. It's even funnier when the damn thing rings and hops around.
(The phone, that is. Not Donna).

Great. Now I'm going to have Mexican Hat Dance in my head for the rest of the day.



And then one day, the old crap was gone (all but the uglyphone and the flourescent 5th grade classroom light fixture) and the walls went white!
Like, really really white.



Whoa! From white to blindingly tera cotta overnight!
Ok, fine, it's more of a hazard cone orange.
*sigh*


The walls broke out in a rash after the cabinets arrived.
I started to break out into rashes every time I so much as thought about having to go back to HoDe.

At this point in the process we were still plenty nervous about how the whole thing was going to come together. Since, as you know, my design skills rival those of the undead. I'm going to have to leave you hanging for now since Blogger isn't wearing it's return-from-a-holiday-weekend-and-not-funciton-properly asshat. Plus, I kinda have to clean up a little. Heh.

I'll post the final final photos later today. Try to keep your pants on. Or, you know, don't.