Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Kitchen Remodel: Mea Culpa

When I posted this entry about the insanity known as our kitchen sink plumbing, I fully and freely admit that it contained a bit of a smart-ass tone; especially where I described how the repair work was done. 

In my defense, David and I had spent quite a bit of time trying to work through what would need to be done to get the plumbing in shape for our new cabinets. So much time in fact that I’m pretty sure some of my brain cells went into a temporary state of collapse.

That might explain why when I wrote the post I completely forgot a very important detail. You see, Dave and Dianna Rider, of Winjama fame and great friends of ours, rented this house for about six months when they moved here. In the midst of coordinating all the details to get their place built and surviving Hurricane Dean, they also had to contend with the challenges this house offered during their stay.

I was reminded of this when this blog comment appeared in my inbox this morning:

Hey Elizabeth,
I resemble that 'expert' repair job. In my defense (feeble as it is) the tools and supplies I had were what was available as we too had just moved here and none of our stuff had yet to arrive. And we were beginning to be overrun with cucarachas and mice, so I was in a panic. What can I say?
At least it stemmed the tide of the invasion.
Buy you a beer to make up for leaving you with such an example of unhandymanism?

I remember quite vividly what it was like when we arrived here in May, and we were waiting for our stuff to arrive from the States. We had no tools, no car, no nuthin’ to tackle the multitude of repairs the house needed. And if the quantity of bugs coming through the torn porch screens were any indication of the invasion of cucarachas and mice Dave and Dianna had to contend with, well, I can fully understand working with whatever you could get your hands on to stem the tide.

So I stand here (figuratively), in front of our numerous blog followers (all three!) and various blog lurkers to say, “Mea culpa. I'm not only a klutz, but occasionally absent minded.”

P.S.There’s no need to buy us a beer, because you saved our bacon by crafting that handy sill that fits between the porch and living room door. If it wasn’t for that to keep the blowing rain from invading our living room, we would be in the market for more squeeges.

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