I was riding high today buoyed by dreams of finely polished, stainless steel appliances and a garbage disposal that actually works.
The dog puking up grass and, strangely, a rock, at the foot of the stairs during a phone interview about the president’s visit to Afghanistan and the kiddo trying to “help” by cleaning the puke up brought me back down to earth.
Our dreams outpaced our reno budget when we bought this place four years ago. We kept the old beat up white fridge and scuffed oven.
Both now bear battle scars of family life.
There’s a huge black singe mark from the hubby’s experiment with baking brownies on top of the stove when the gas line stopped working.
The oven has huge plastic child safety knobs on the controls.
We have no dishwasher–a decision that my hubby endorsed by “green” guilting me into it. I was cool with his eco friendly choice as long as he promised to wash the dishes, which he does…eventually.
The disposal has been broken for years. From time to time the sink attached to the disposal backs up unleashing a liquid funk that rivals James Brown.
In short, the appliances are a hot mess.
So we’ve been pricing new ones with an eye toward giving me an extra special Mother’s Day gift.
My hubby’s gift? I start washing all the dishes once that dishwasher is installed.