As many of you know, Don and I bought an old house that has turned in to “The Money Pit” – except Don isn’t as funny or as rich as Tom Hanks and I hopefully don’t look like Shelley Long. As a matter of fact – one of the 869 work dudes that have passed through here in the past few months just came in and said “looks like we’re going to have to cut a hole in the bathroom where your closet is – is that ok?” Now this is the same poor guy who yesterday was working in the laundry room and had to move my bras that were drying on the rack, so I’m going to have to lurk around the bathroom door and watch him try to deal with my feminine products as he cleans out the closet. I hope he gets paid well.
We knew this house was a fixer-upper and one of the first places we started was the kitchen. We had the floors redone (here’s a little tip – bamboo flooring might not be for you if A - you have gianormous dogs who like to get a running start by digging their nails in to the soft wood, or B – you like to mop your kitchen floors every once in a while, because bamboo can’t get wet. Good times.), got a new countertop, repainted the walls and moulding (a project that Don decided to take on the DAY I was having 30 women over for dinner), but NONE of these things has caused as much angst as trying to figure out what sort of knobs we wanted to put on the cabinetry.
We spent hundreds of dollars on onesies/twosies of assorted knobs so we could try them out. We have had parties just so we could poll our friends on which knobs they liked best. We even – in a moment of frustration and disbelief that this is what our life has become - considered rehanging ALL 48 cabinets and drawers because we couldn’t find knobs that matched the hinges.
Now – I’m not saying that I sit around waiting for him to leave so I can do things he told me not to…but here is a photo of the VERY FIRST KNOB I picked out (that he said he didn't like):
and here is a photo of the knobs I bought and am installing in the kitchen.
The hint of blue matches our newly painted walls, the white picks up the flecks in our countertop, and the thought of coming in to the kitchen every morning and having 48 colorful, cheerful knobs to welcome me makes me happy. In reality - Don couldn't care less what knobs are in the kitchen, and finally buying these knobs and installing them myself really makes me feel like at least ONE project in this house is done, they are exactly what I wanted, and it just feels good.
So to Don - two years from now when you finally notice the knobs I will apologize for buying them even after you said you didn't like them.
To my 48 old knobs (and the more than 20 individual knobs I bought and tried out) – I am sending you off to an agency that uses refurbished housing materials to improve the homes of those who need a little help in these troubled times. Bring new life to a little girl’s dresser or a smile to a grandmother who wants to brighten up her kitchen.
To the guy in the bathroom – put down my tampons and get back to work.