So when we last left off, I was explaining about the worst day of my job to date, and how I work for an insanely frustrating human being. When I got home that night, I felt like I needed to be in charge of a project and I needed to succeed at something.
So here’s a little back story about the kitchen:
2 years ago, I had just started to live by myself after a sad breakup, and I was seeing someone new (my current girlfriend, holla!), but I was still pretty damaged and I was completely underwater financially, since my ex had been sharing the bills with me up to that point. One day, I came downstairs to find that water had been dripping out of my kitchen cabinets on to my electric range, and I panicked. I unplugged the stove, called off work, and then called some plumbing company that had a catchy commercial on TV, and they came out and diagnosed some (probably relatively small) leak in the branch lines that connected my shower to the main stack. I guess somewhere along the way, he must have given me the option to just fix the leak, but because he was a salesman before all else and I was a panicked homeowner still trying to prove to everyone (most of all myself) that I could handle this solo homeowning gig, he convinced me to replace all of the second floor’s plumbing, which was really expensive. I guess they did good work, and it is supposedly warranted for the rest of my life, but I should have called someone cheaper. At the end of that day, I was left with a gaping hole in my ceiling and an even larger hole in my available credit on my credit card, and I decided that I didn’t want to tell anyone that I had called some big name plumber because I didn’t know what else to do and I’m such a damsel in distress, etc etc.
But then inertia kicked in, and I didn’t get the drywall fixed for a whole year. And then when I finally did get the drywall fixed, the guy couldn’t see to smooth it out after it got dark that day because the lighting in my kitchen is weird, so he said he’d come back. But then I didn’t call him and he didn’t call me, and a whole year passed AGAIN of me avoiding having my family over, because I hadn’t painted over the drywall and there was an obvious patch.
Something clicked in me recently, though, and I didn’t want to be afraid of my parents or friends stopping by anymore. I wanted to maybe even invite them to stop over, so they could see this home that I have made with my girlfriend, which is actually okay. My mom hasn’t been in my house since 2009 (although we live in the same city), so maybe it would be nice to have them over. Besides, like I mentioned, I’m thinking about selling the house in the next few years, so I need to scratch these things off of my to-do list. It’s nice to take some pride in my house instead of viewing it as a burden, and it’s nice to finally get out from underneath the inertia that had me feeling so down for so long.
So Elissa and I sanded/primed/painted on Wednesday and Thursday, and then I put the recessed lighting back in today, and it is finally back to how it was, 2 full years later. Maybe there’s some kind of metaphor in there about healing, or maybe not. All I know is that it’s really nice to finish something. Especially when it has nothing to do with work.