by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett
I was recently interviewed for a blog and one of the questions was: Tell us about your life that doesn't involve writing.
That's a toughie. I have to be one of the most boring people on the face of the planet. I mean, isn't that why I write--so I can live vicariously through my characters? (Believe me, I'd be the last person on Earth to try to solve a crime.)
What are my hobbies? Carpal tunnel put an end to counted cross stitch (and knitting), and I don't often read fiction when I'm writing, so I read a LOT of decorating books and magazines. And when I visit my mother, we watch HGTV. Because of that, I spend a lot of my off hours thinking about home renovation.
I want a new kitchen.
There, I said it.
I have the worst kitchen on the planet. When we bought this house, it somehow escaped both of us that the kitchen was this small, square box without even room for a table. We eat all our meals in the dining room (which is also a bit small). The house was built in 1967 and I suspect the entire kitchen is original. The cabinets are in good shape, but dated (dark oak Formica) and certainly not nearly enough of them. The ceramic floor is a creamy beige and shows every spill. (Worse yet, it's slippery when wet.)
I see kitchen renovations on TV that usually cost between $25-$50,000. Whoa! There's no way I want to put that kind of money into our pokey little kitchen. I have a much more modest renovation in mind. First of all, the cabinets are SOLID. I'd reface rather than replace them. (Why put perfectly good cabinets in the waste stream?) In the last two years, we've replaced all the appliances, so no need to do it again. The floor--I'd still like tile, but something that doesn't show the dirt and won't kill us next time the cat's water bowl sloshes on it's way from the sink to the floor.
The biggest problem? Money. I was thinking that this fall we could replace the kitchen floor and then next year worry about the cabinets, but that plan went down the drain when our cat Bonnie got sick. Her best option for a cure put us $1800 in the hole. Save kitty or get new floor? Well, that was a no brainer.
So, I guess I'll just watch the home renovation shows for a while and dream about a new and different kitchen.
And I'll pet my purring cat.