Bustin' it up

At this point we have been living without a kitchen for so long I've lost track.  Lalo says it's been 5 and a half weeks, and while it seems like much longer, my calendar indicates that's about right.

In early June, Susie came over and helped up tear the joint apart.  Which is to say, we got the benefit of her many months of boot camp (not real boot camp, mind you—I assume it's an exercise regimen where people yell at you while you do push-ups).  Lalo and Susie were definitely the brawn of the operation, while I busied myself with taking stuff out to the back yard. 

Our first disappointment occurred when Lalo went up to the attic to rake back the insulation and discovered that the wall we were planning to partially remove was load-bearing.  This despite the assurances of a contractor we had met with (his bid would have blown my budget—hence our attempt at DIY).  So….rats. Load-bearing wall. 

 

The second disappointment was that the cabinets were installed in such a crazy fashion that they had to be completely demolished.  I had hoped to donate the structurally sound ones to Habitat for Humanity (or at least put some in the shed for storage).  No dice.  They were nailed to the wall and—perplexingly—also through the upper soffit.  I'm not quite sure how they managed that.  

The upshot—Lalo and Susie swung away, and we ended up with a big pile of splintered wood in the back yard. Not one, but two hammers were tossed during the demo.  Presumably by accident, as no one was hurt. 

Then the walls came down.  And the ceiling. Don't worry, that was part of the plan.  I admit, I was reassured it was so damn hard to take it apart.  Rest assured, this house is solidly built.  It wouldn't come quietly and had to be torn asunder.  It took about a day and a half, but we eventually wrestled it into submission. And by we, I mean Lalo and Susie.  But I helped.