the fridge was delivered early. They told me it would come between 4 and 8 pm so I spent most of the day out doing stuff I couldn't do when Frank is gone. I can't leave the dogs in their crates for long periods so I get little running around done unless he is home with them.
As we came home from lunch, there was the delivery people sitting in front of the house. Bringing me a dishwasher......
Once we got that straightened out, and put back on the truck, I got the fridge installed and running.
I couldn't sleep so I came into the house and sat in the kitchen, I had to clear off the folding table that used to be my computer desk but now is used for construction junk.
Remember when I spoke of the walls. The kitchen has that sort of feel to it as well. It is the center, the brain, the heart if you will. I spent my time in the kitchen when I was not sewing or quilting. The kitchen fed my family, struggled through homework and brought my friends together.
My kitchen is not a showplace, it is a collection of the things I like and what I do. I am not light and modern; for sure I am dark and brooding.
The kitchen used to be warm and dark. My cabinets were wide and open. These new ones are thinner and deep, which feels wrong. Even though they are not, they look cheap to me.
Sitting here in the wee hours of this morning, I come to the conclusion that I much preferred my old kitchen to this new light one. Light is just not my thing. It will be pretty and functional, but it will not be what I like, what I wanted. It feels unfinished, raw; waiting for someone's colors to be laid stroked upon it.
I know in time I can paint the walls, put my art back up. But my art and my things are not this modern, timeless look that is what this is now.