Since I spend my time at work painting theatrical scenery, it seems fitting that on my vacation I'm unpainting my kitchen. Unpainting, instead of painting: that's super-relaxing, right?
This was our kitchen, back when we first bought our little house. It's significantly less grimy and has more food in it, but otherwise it looks pretty much the same.
This is what the ceiling looks like. Robb and I have done a lot of work on this house, but we've steadfastly ignored how rough the kitchen looks. We did whatever the house-restoring version is of sticking our fingers in our ears, and chanting "lalalalala, we can't hear you."
And now, we've run out of easy and semi-easy projects, and we have to get serious about the kitchen.
We've been stripping paint off of our cabinets and drawers. I've been using the nifty heat-tool that we used on the exterior siding of our house, and Robb has been doing the finish-sanding. I think I've finished striping paint off of everything that can be physically removed from the kitchen, which means that we're going to start stripping paint inside the kitchen. Since we don't want paint dust in all of our food and cooking utensils, we're going to have to dis-assemble the kitchen for the foreseeable future. If I wasn't allergic to half the vegetables on earth, I'd be super-jazzed, and make this an excuse to have all our meals in restaurants. As it is, I'm not quite sure how we're going to manage.
Based on sales history of our house, and the age of our stove, we think the cabinets were installed in 1949. It's fun to strip away the paint, and find the pencil notes written by the original carpenters.
The cats are very helpful, keeping the cabinet doors from blowing away in the back yard.
Vacations are very relaxing, if you are a cat.