When we moved into our first house last year there were a number of things that became immediately clear. Mostly that it really was 100 years old, and in some places you could tell. Some of those 100 year old home things are beautiful- our huge front window is original to the house and, being poured by hand, has a beautiful warbley look to it so that everything on the front street seems slightly less real than everything inside the house.  In other places, those well worn looks aren’t so appealing, like how no one has re-finished the hardwood floors since the 1940’s. Which I think is a project for next year.

Mostly our little house is incredibly sweet, but there are those things that start to nag at you after some time and for me the kitchen and mudroom downgrade our house from shabby chic to shabby. And being that I’m now home all day, being unemployed, walking the dogs, and making lunch dates with anyone who is within a 100 km radius of me (I MISS HUMANS!!) this week I decided I needed a project, and damnit, I was going to make over our kitchen by Saturday, and the mud room would be re-done the following week.

And yes, I have examined the possibility that this could be kinda the same as when I decided to wash and iron all of Misters shirts in 12 hours while drinking wine and watching The Virgin Suicides, thank you for bringing that up. But something about this project just feels a lot less desperate- don’t you agree? (Of course you do!)

Late last night, most of the work was finally finished. The huge 1940’s built in cupboards were painted, new hardware was secured, the back splash was a beautiful robin’s egg blue (and the backs of all the cupboards were too!). I had spend the morning twittering nervously about how I was going to wallpaper my (cheap, ugly, bargain bin) lower cabinets and after wrestling with irregular cabinet measurements, pattern repeats, and my better judgment for most of the morning and afternoon I had successfully wallpapered for the first time.

AND IT WORKED!

Mister got home from work, and I ushered him into the kitchen shrieking, “Don’t look!! Don’t look! Okay!! Now look!” which was followed by the requisite ooh’s and ah’s. And guys, he really liked it. And I love it. And I was really proud that we’re making the house a little more perfect for us.

As the night rolled in, the heat from the day broke into a rolling thunderstorm. I ran downstairs in my vintage slip nightie, threw on my leather jacket and came out onto the porch. Mister was already there, taking it in. I sat on our front steps, put my feet out into the rain, and as the sheet lightening lit up the sky I could see the paint on my hands and legs from the day of work.

“One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…” Mister counted, before thunder boomed through the air.

“Mister?”

“What’s up Ky?”

“You know what? This painting, sitting on our porch while there’s a storm- this… just all of it? This is why I wanted a house.”

For the first time in a long time, I slept all the way through the night.

{image: simple tess}