- Coming home to find that my darling contractor (and I do mean that - I adore this man) had skimmed some more drywall. Again. Filling my entire house with drywall dust. Again. And causing me to have to repaint portions of the kitchen. Again.
- Having the cabinet dude grovel and apologize repeatedly for taking two weeks to get my countertop installed.
- Taking a shower, hearing Foxie Doxie throw the biggest of big fits and realizing that the cabinet guy's helper let himself into my house. An hour early. I wrapped a towel around myself, walked into the living room and requested that he "Give me about 10 minutes." His response as he sprinted out of my house? "Uh, the traffic wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." This scene was a nice follow up to the day I had to answer my door in my bathrobe.
- Washing my dishes in the tub. Again. And dropping one. The pink one. The dish around which my entire kitchen color scheme is based. The discontinued one. It broke. And with it, my spirit. My dogs started freaking out as I completely lost my mind. "I am so over this! Get these people out of my house! ARGH!!!" I hope the neighbors didn't hear.
I'm taking deep breaths.
And I spent $24 today on vintage-looking pink dishtowels, because they gave me hope for the future. Someday, I will have a kitchen that will require dishtowels. Someday, my dishes won't be piled alongside the bathroom sink.
It's like the end of Shawshank Redemption. I hope the kitchen is as beautiful as in my dreams. I hope ...