Last year in a bold act of tough love, I broke up with most of my appliances.
We’ve been over the dishwasher drama and a few of you know about the literal breakup with the stove top. Some of you have been around for the refrigerator ruckus and I may have mentioned the Dyson Animal disaster. Suffice it to say, PETA should be alerted since animals were used to make false claims to sell overpriced vacuums to pet owners.
I don’t consider myself a high maintenance appliance owner. I can put up with pulling dog hair out of a vacuum hose with needle nose pliers every other minute or I can work around a shattered stove top, since my cooking is questionable at best.
But before I became the frog in the pot who noticed the water getting hotter but failed jump out until she was thoroughly cooked, I needed to act decisively, if not immediately.
I would ring in the New Year with the quietest and most cleverly designed dishwasher to date, the most spacious refrigerator that could fit in a tight space and serve up crushed ice, a gas stove without a glass top, and a Hoover WindTunnel Pro.
All this cost very little thanks to reward points, gift cards, and super Black Friday sales at Sears. The biggest cost was the time and effort it took to coordinate and apply those points and cards at the precise time, especially when mix-ups and returns were involved. And trust me, no matter how many times you dot the i’s and cross the t’s, stuff happens.
Armed with this information, I decided one more thing was needed. It was time to knock a wall out in the kitchen so these appliances could play nice together and I might be motivated to cook and clean up. Applying the gift card theory to construction, I looked around at what I had to barter.
As it turned out, my contractor Don needed an SUV. I was experiencing a little separation anxiety letting go of my RAV4 since I’d had it for 14 years. Knowing it would go to a good home made the decision easier. We had ourselves a win-win situation. He would get an SUV and I would get more cupboards and counter tops.
In metaphysical metaphors the house is often compared to a person’s life, with different rooms representing different parts of the self. The kitchen is often the hub of the house, the primary place for nourishing and sustaining those who live there. Knocking down a wall in this part of the house, or this area of my life, is pretty significant, to say nothing of all the comings and goings of appliances.
Writing nourishes my soul in a way that nothing else does. Going public with it makes me feel more vulnerable than any other thing I could do. It’s like opening the doors to my house and having a dinner party every night, even though I’m acutely aware of my culinary limitations and the construction chaos.
The critics will clamor I’m just an amateur cook, but as long as we’re all having a good time and learning to spice things up along the way, I’m honored to have you at the table and thrilled that you might consider taking a few leftovers home with you.
Behind this grand interior design plan is the desire to invite you in. And here’s an idea. Let’s make it a potluck! I know you are known in certain circles for that special dish that only you can make. Please bring that. And leave it in the comments below.
See you tomorrow. Come hungry.