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Another Day, Another wall o’cabinets
2008-03-24, 2:10 p.m.

Day 1311

Woke up stiff Sunday morning, and not in a good way. Got up, got dressed, got caffeine. Cindy was up a solid 20 minutes before me and at least had the coffee going. Girl has her morning priorities arranged right.

Cindy went grocery shopping, I went and plumbed the sink. Just didn’t have the gumption to do it Saturday night. So Sunday morning I got the plumbing in. The supply plumbing is now complete. The drain plumbing is again temporary, waiting for the new sink that will come with the new countertop. At least PVC plumbing is inexpensive.

Cindy got back from the grocery store complaining about how fast $200 goes. No news there, really, except she did have an unusually small load of goods for that $200 price tag. Couldn’t really figure where all the money went. So we looked at the receipt. Nothing looked terribly out of place till we got down to the ham. Yeah, buying ham on Easter morning. You would too if you had no kitchen. Anyhow. 8.67 pound spiral cut ham. $52.00 I don’t think so. $5.99 a pound for a glazed, spiral cut ham? Nope. Not here.

So Cindy got to go back to the store while I got to re-solder a joint that I was suspicious of. It took it a minute or two, but it leaked spectacularly. Had a regular spray mister under the sink. Hot water too. That slowed down Sunday morning a wee bit. But we persevered. Sink back in (again), disposal and best of all – the dishwasher is again functional.

Sunday afternoon Eric and I pounded out the south wall of cabinets. This includes the range and microwave. When I do show you a pic (tomorrow, promise), the microwave should be up, but the range is not the one we’ll have in the ‘finished’ kitchen. We’re switching to a 36” wide model, complete with a griddle in the center and higher output burners all around. We cook enough that we’d really like to have more stove space & capacity. So the pic will show our current, standard issue range. But you’ll get the idea.

All that’s left really (heh – all that’s left . . .) is to install the under cabinet lights, hang the microwave, get the pendant lamp for over the sink (ordered, Cindy is going to go ankle bite them today, see wtf is up with that) and do the whole east wall monster hutch thing. Six cabinets to install, after I correct the position of a switch/outlet combo. I waaaaayyyyy overthought the position of that switch/outlet thing and of course, got it all wrong. I wanted it to end up just above the finished countertop. Having suffered a severe brain fart, I installed it 31 inches above the floor, thinking I was an entire inch above the countertop. Except, you know how high standard countertops are? 36 inches. Dumb ass. Somehow I got it in my head (via the brain fart, I’m sure) that the counter was only 30 inches tall.

Now I have to move that box, and will probably have to re-run a cable that will now be too short (by 6 $#*&@ inches). Simple enough, just time consuming. This wall also needs to be ready to prime by, oohhhhh, Wednesday or so. See – the countertop folks are coming in to make their template 4/8 and I need to have that east wall finished by then. I’m aiming for a week sooner because, well, shit happens.

Take last night as an example. (Please, take last night)

The Bob spent the day with us yesterday. We kept him entertained while we were installing cabinets, fed him a lovely Easter ham (returned for the 1.99 a pound ham, thankyouverymuch) and even stuffed a piece of very tasty homemade apple pie down his gullet. He never had it so good.

I was finishing up SOMETHING in the kitchen (of course) and Cindy took The Bob back to his swinging bachelor pad on the other side of town. Got him back about 8:30ish. Pretty normal time for him to be rolling in.

We had both remarked about how ‘with it’ he seemed, at least verbally. He still gets kinda spazzy with spatial relationships. Fer example. We asked him to set the table. Place mats are set down all askew, and not lined up in front of the chairs. Well, most of them. Silverware? Rather than set on a napkin beside the main plate, they’re plopped down at a 45 degree angle someplace above the plate. On/off a placemat that’s all akimbo, possibly not lined up on a chair. (When he sits at the table it’s the same deal. He shuns right angles. Weird)

Anyhow. Cindy had a rough night calling for subs. Finally got it done. We both head upstairs and collapse into bed. I’m physically wore out from cabinet hanging, Cindy is spent from groceries, entertaining her dad, plotting out where everything is going to go in the kitchen, and also having to do the uglier part of her real job – the sub calling. We’re both drooling on our pillows (and she was snoring) when the phone rings about 1:30. A. M. It’s Cindy’s brother on the phone. Except he’s down in Maryland with the rest of his clan, visiting his daughter. It would appear that The Bob has lost his wallet and called the police, claiming that two white females stole it from him. The police asked The Bob if there was anyone they could contact, and The Bob mentions “My son Wayne, who lives in Mt. ***” (a town 40 minutes south, which is true). So the police call Waynes house, only to find his mum-in-law there babysitting his 3 dogs, 5 cats, 1 prairie dog, fish tank and who knows whateverthehellelse. Mum-in-law give the police Waynes cell number. They call him, he calls us. Of course, there is nothing Wayne can do but let us know. So last night (this morning?) Cindy and I head back across the city and meet the cops over at The Bob’s.

The officer was sitting in his cruiser out front when we got there. The missing wallet? He found it. Under a handkerchief, stuffed into an eyeglass case on the nightstand. With Bob’s room keys wrapped around them. Apparently, this particular officer has been here before, responding to calls that Bob feels he’s getting threatening phone calls from the Mafia, and one other time when 3 black guys allegedly tried to steal his wallet. So this officer is aware of what’s really going on, but it’s such a waste of resources to have him respond to Bob’s nuisance calls.

When we got up to Bob’s room, he was apologetic and contrite. He knew what he did was grossly over-reacting, but he can’t understand why he did it. (He’s not alone there . . .) Found his camera. A Nikon D50. He says it’s trashed. “Someone blew through 300 exposures and now it has to be sent back to HP in Mt. **** (same one horse town where Wayne lives, with no HP or Nikon outlet. Not even a W@lmart there. Yet.) The real kicker is that the lens has been removed and the locking features on the mating ring have been totally ruined. Someone tried to force the lens back on the camera incorrectly. Hmmm, I wonder who?

Stupidly, I started to contradict/correct Bob about the camera’s condition. Bad move. So I back tracked, told him I’d take it to Mt. ***, get it repaired and have the counter reset so he could do 300 more exposures (where the hell he came up with THAT notion I have no idea, I’m just playing along) We finally left him with strict orders to get to bed and rest. We got back home about 2:45 I think.

Needless to say, there was no “biking with Bill” for me this morning. Not after 5 very interrupted hours of sleep and the weekend we had.

We thought Bob was doing so well on this new medicine, then this pops up. Well, last nights incident, and the revelation there have been many more prior that we weren’t made aware of.

It’s got to become a priority to discuss having Bob make gifts from his estate. At the rate things are going, it WILL all end up going to a nursing home. That’d be a damn shame, especially after having a chat with his lawyer and finding out just what the rules are. It’s simple, straight forward, and if I’m correct, might be within my scope as power of attorney. But I’d make sure Bob made the decision. I’d just help him come to the correct conclusion.

Soon as the kitchen is done, we’ll start mapping that out. Cuz last night, even Bob was wondering if he needed a higher level of care. We’re starting to wonder if he’s really safe to be left as independent as he is.

I don’t ever want to be like that. Most of the time he’s fine. Some of the time, he’s frantic. Can’t remember shit, he’s losing his spatial relationship reasoning (you should see him draw a clock face). Sometimes he knows he’s having trouble, other times he’s busy trying to fool folks into believing he’s fine. Mostly I think he’s scared and he misses his wife fiercely. So do I.

Edited to add: Look, my head is about to explode . . . . Eric got this shot towards the end of the day Saturday. If you look behind me, you can see the sink isn't even temporarily plopped down into position yet. (Must be the harsh light, beause I'm SURE I don't look THAT bald. Yet.)

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old habits - new tricks