Today while I was at my studio working on the drawers and cabinet doors, Robb removed our kitchen windows. We don't want to use heat to strip the paint on the windows, for fear of cracking our lovely woobly glass.
There were two surprises in this job. First, how easily the panes could be removed from the rest of the house. And secondly, that the upper panes were meant to open. We had no idea that this was possible. It turns out that our windows had been painted shut for years and years.
Judging by the way the paint was layered on, Robb guesses that the upper parts of our kitchen windows had been painted shut for sixty-five years.
We're using horribly corrosive chemical strippers, which do an astonishingly good job, and will dissolve right through human flesh. As you can imagine, we only use this method in very particular circumstances.
We popped the windows in again at the end of our work-day. If we hadn't, I would have spent a sleepless night, imagining raccoons and burglars climbing into our kitchen, and tripping over our stepladders.
As I figure it, we'll be able to start installing cabinet doors on Monday, after I get home from work. My vacation is over, and I need to stop painting my kitchen and get back to painting theatrical scenery.
Linguine will be very sad to see me go back to work. She, like the protagonist in Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the dog), loves to watch other people work.