The Kitchen Saga, Part II

My options at this point were to either rent or borrow a truck. The only person I knew with a truck was Kevin, so I gave him a ring to see if I might be able to borrow it for a couple of hours. He graciously offered me the use of his truck, so I made my way over to his workplace and exchanged keys with him. On the way back to Dixieline, I got in touch with Mike to see if he might be available to help me install the window. Fortunately, his schedule was open and he said that he would meet me at the condo. I picked up the window and got it home without any problems. Then, Mike and I grabbed some lunch and returned Kevin's truck. That is, we tried to return Kevin's truck; when we arrived at his office, my car and Kevin were no where to be found. Turns out, he and a couple coworkers had taken my car to lunch. Mike and I located them at the Rubio's up the street and Kevin and I once again exchanged keys.

When we finally got back to my place, Mike and I went to work removing the old window. Once the old panes were out, we picked the new window up and got ready to slip it into the opening. It was at this point that we discovered that the window was too big. Way too big. After some obligatory cursing and pacing, I gathered up my wits. I called up my father to try to get in touch with a friend of his who recently retired from doing window installations (my dad told me to call the friend when I informed him that I was going to put the window in myself). A couple calls later, it was determined that my dad's friend was going to come down a couple days later and try to make the window fit. Fortunately, the old window was still in one piece, so I was able to reinstall it in the meantime. I also received a somewhat desperate call from Kevin that afternoon asking me to check the back seat of my car for a set of keys. It seems that one of his coworkers that Kevin went to lunch with managed to leave his keys in the backseat of my car.

As the one reliable person involved in this whole fiasco, the friend made good on his word and drove all the way down from Hemet to determine that the window was indeed too big for the opening. With that out of the way, he also went ahead and ordered another window, this time with the proper dimensions. Of course, all of this required at least three more calls to the granite people to schedule, cancel and reschedule appointments. I finally told them that I would just call them when I actually had a window in place.

This would be a good time to mention that while all this is going on, I was also trying to do some minor remodeling in the nearby bathroom. As such, I had left myself with no running water on the entire first floor of the condo. But, the bathroom is a whole 'nother story.

Fast forward another couple weeks; I finally get word back from my Dad's friend that the window has come in and he will be down in the next day or two to install it. At this point, I can't tell, but I think there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Sure enough, I come home from work two days later and there is a new window in place in the kitchen. I am elated at this point. First thing the next morning, I call up my new friend, Kristin, at the granite place and tell her that I'm ready for someone to come out and remeasure (measured the clearances myself and determined that they changed by less than a sixteenth of an inch—naturally, an amount small enough that it would not have had any effect on the countertops).

The templating guy came out a few days later and verified that none of the measurements had changed. With that out of the way, I was told it would be about another two weeks before the countertops were actually installed. Hell, I'd already been through over two months; two more weeks would be a walk in the park. Of course, this did put a bit of a damper on the Super Bowl party that I had been eagerly awaiting to throw, but I let it go.

My install day was a Monday; with all the anticipation of actually having a functioning kitchen at some point in the next couple days, Sunday night felt like Christmas Eve. Two guys showed up at my house the next morning, bearing large slabs of rock. To say that they took their time during the install would be like saying nepotism played no part in today's Whitehouse (it's ok, Bush has no idea what that word means). I'd like to say that they took their time because they were being very meticulous; I'd like to say that, but I can't. Rather, it took a long time because they were too busy talking to me about important topics such as the latest Playstation games or drugs or their views on women or any number of completely unrelated topics. At any rate, they finally finished up some time in the early afternoon. When they were done, however, everything looked great (of course, going from plywood to granite, one would hope the change would somewhat favor the stone). With the countertops in place, all that was left was reinstalling and hooking up the sink and the appliances.

I had the handyman scheduled to come out early the next morning (and before you ask, yes, I'm a very slow learner). I left the house around 8:30 that morning and while I was gone, he was supposed to install the sink and hook up the water lines (including the installation of a water filter), install the dishwasher and install the range. He assured me that it would only take a few hours and that he would be done around lunch time. I took this to mean that I would be able to use everything that night, so I had Mike pick up some food at the grocery store for dinner and offered to cook us a celebratory meal.

When I came home at 5:00 that night, I walked in my front door and noticed that the dishwasher and range were right where I left them—in my living room. I then turned my attention to the kitchen where the handyman was standing and learned that the sink was installed, but only the hot water was hooked up. To be honest, this really blew my mind; I mean, how do you spend eight hours working and only have a sink in place and one, of two, water lines hooked up? One piece of the puzzle fell into place when I learned that the handyman hadn't actually been at my house all day, but rather had spent the better part of the afternoon, "trying to meet some guy down by the Sports Arena," who, "never showed up." I really have no idea what this guy is into, and truthfully, I don't really care, but it would have been nice to come home and have a goddamn working kitchen.

Trying to make the most of a dismal situation, I asked the handyman if I could at least use the hot water, since he did have that hooked up. He was confident that that wouldn't be a problem and to prove it, got under the sink and started to turn on the valve for the hot water. Next thing I know, water is shooting out all over the kitchen from where the dishwasher should be! I start yelling at him to turn it off (a process which, evidently, took a few seconds to register) and when the stream of water finally subsides, I leave to get some towels, all the while cursing this buffoon of a man under my breath.

While I went about drying out the kitchen, the handyman put his tools away and told me that he would be back in the morning to finish everything up. Screw that, I thought to myself, I will just install these things myself. So, I called Kevin up to see if he would be willing to trade dinner for services (Kevin's much better with electricity than I am), and he agreed to come by after he got off work.

In the span of two and a half hours, Kevin and I (with no prior knowledge, mind you) finished hooking up the sink, installed and connected the dishwasher, installed the range and had dinner. Now, we did run into a minor snag when installing the range. We had all the wires hooked up properly and lifted the appliance into place. We were sliding it back into its cavity in the countertop, when the backside stopped about an inch short of the edge of the countertop. At this point, I had lost the ability to swear and merely started laughing at the situation. Like everything else involved with this project, I was so close, yet victory stood before me like a carrot on a string.

I called up Kristin on the way to work the next morning (she and had I talked so many times, that I actually ended up entering her number in my phone) and explained the problem to her. She told me that she would probably be able to get someone out that afternoon to remedy the problem. Sure enough, she was able to come through and a couple guys came out and recut a portion of the granite.

Finally, everything was in place and I had a real kitchen again. I really didn't know what to do for the first few days; I was so used to eating out or using paper plates and plastic silverware that I had almost forgotten how to function in the kitchen. I was finally able to unpack my other appliances, such as the toaster and blender. I had to go to the store to fill my refrigerator with something other than beer and frozen dinners. Thank god the kitchen renaissance is over.

Time to get started on the upstairs bathroom…

The Kitchen Saga, Part I

It all began back in November. When I moved into my condo, the kitchen still bore the original tile from 1974. I didn't think it was possible for tile to wear out, but the condition of the kitchen proved me wrong. There was a tile missing (odds of finding a replacement 30 years later, not too good), and the remainder were beat up, pock-marked, chipped or cracked. My plan was to order new countertops well before I moved in so that the process would get underway and hopefully be finished within a week or two of moving. That way, the downtime of the kitchen would be minimized and I would only be without its use for a short time. In the midst of doing this, I also elected to replace the window over the kitchen sink, since it was a security hazard (the window could be completely lifted out from the outside).

Having never owned a domicile before, I had yet to discover the pleasure of dealing with contractors, subcontractors and home improvement store sales people. My innocence also led me to believe that these sorts of projects would be completed in a painless and efficient manner. It's safe to say that I've learned a lot over the course of the last few months.

Like I said, this tale of woe began back in November with a trip to Home Depot Expo. I was brought into the store by an ad proclaiming terrific prices on various kinds of countertops. Always in the market for a good deal, I couldn't resist. By the time I'd left the store, I had filled out all of my preliminary information and brought home a couple samples of real and synthetic stone to test out in the kitchen. Originally, I had sold myself on the synthetic stone because it was less upkeep than the real deal. However, after looking at the sample pieces, I decided to go with granite (which, incidentally, happened to be less expensive than the fake stone).

So, I returned to the store, finished filling out the paperwork, and returned home to my functional, albeit worn out, kitchen, waiting for the granite company to contact me. On a side note, after purchasing the condo, there were a couple little things around the place that needed to be fixed, so I hired a handyman that Erik (previous owner) had used in the past and recommended to me. Once I got the ball rolling on the countertops, I went to Dixieline to order a new window for the kitchen, using measurements that had been provided by the previously mentioned handyman. I was told that the window should come in some time during the week following Thanksgiving.

Everything had gone smoothly to this point and it seemed like it would be an uneventful experience. A week or so later, a woman came out to measure the countertop area to get a more accurate quote for the cost of the granite. I was told that the company would be contacting me shortly to come out and make templates for the slabs.

By now, it's the last week of November/first week of December and I have been living in my place for about 2 weeks; I also have yet to hear from either the granite people or Dixieline. Someone at the granite company must have sensed my uneasiness, because they were the first to get in touch with me. I was set up with an appointment for December 8th for the templating. With still no word from Dixieline, I decided to place a call with them. In so doing, I found out that although they had taken all of my information down, they failed to actually place the order with the manufacturer. I was then informed that the earliest they could get the window to me would be December 30th.

The templating went along as scheduled; however, the marble company wouldn't sign off on the measurements until the new window was put in, in case it changed the tolerances between the window and edge of the counter. With the window arriving on the 30th, I went ahead and made a tentative appointment with the handyman to have him come out on the 2nd to install the window and another with the granite people to come out and retemplate on the 5th. Amazingly, the window actually came in on time, but, when I checked with the handyman, he told me he was out of town, but would be able to take care of things on the 5th. Of course, this required another call to be placed to the granite people in order to have them come out on the 6th instead.

Well, the night of the 4th rolls around and I receive a call from the handyman. His side of the conversation went something like this: "Uh, yeah, this is [the handyman], uh, listen man, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it out there tomorrow. I'm kind of in some shit right now and I don't think I'll be back in town anytime soon. You might want to get someone else to put that window in for you. Sorry, man."

Naturally, I was beyond annoyed at this point and decided that if I wanted this stupid window installed then I was going to have to do it myself. I called my boss up that night and informed him that I wouldn't be coming into the office in the morning.

I wake up the following day and head over to Home Depot to pick up a slew of window supplies and then cruise over to Dixieline to see about picking up the window (58" x 44"). My plan was try to jam it into the backseat of the car or, failing that, simply strap it to the roof of the car; unfortunately, the yard hand at Dixieline disagreed with both of my plans and refused to let me take the window. Well, now I was really in a pinch.

<…to be continued>

Girlscout Cookie Time, Again

I swear, if they ever legalize drugs, the Girlscouts are going to be the first to sell them as a fundraiser.