Since my last post, there’s been no time for contemplating life, the universe and everything. I’ve been too busy buzzing around my new house, fixing this and that and getting ready to paint the kitchen.
And I mean all of it. Every square inch that’s paintable is getting a fresh coat, including that busy backsplash.
I did the same thing in my first house so I felt well prepared for the job. Remove doors and hardware, clean everything with TSP, give it all a light sanding, then prime and paint. Easy peasy.
But then everything got harder.
First, I couldn’t find a Robertson screwdriver to fit the screws. The only solution was to hammer the closest matching screwdriver into every single screw to get them to turn. There are just two hinges left on a weird spice cabinet that I’ve yet to wrestle off.
During this struggle, the second of three lightbulbs burned out, making it even harder to see what I was doing. I went to replace the old incandescent bulbs and discovered that one of them was broken. So off with the power and out with the pliers and in with new LED bulbs.
With the brighter light, it became apparent that the ceiling needed a fresh coat. So I did a super fast job, not worrying about tidily cutting in because the walls will be getting a coat of white soon enough.
Then I moved on to cleaning. The ickiest part of this project, by far. I’ve never seen such a filthy kitchen. I mean, it showed well enough when I viewed the house but even then, I could see there was built up dust and grease on the cabinets.
So I wasn’t entirely shocked (although totally grossed out) by the extent of the grime. Decades of it. I used nearly an entire 1.8 litre carton of TSP and did a whole lot of scrubbing to get it all clean. Well, mostly clean. Heaven knows what spilled in one of the lower cupboards but some of it is so securely adhered in grooves in the wood that it will just have to stay there.
At least I got a funny story out of it. When I got to the cupboard above the fridge, lo and behold were a dozen bottles of booze. Quite a variety. I started to box them up so the seller could have them back and I discovered some more interesting indulgences of the mind-altering nature. And, randomly, three measuring tapes, which are the only things in this treasure trove I’d have been likely to use.
So I’m developing an image of the older lady who lived here, drinking her cocktails and puffing on her “herbs,” not giving a hoot about the housecleaning. Maybe she’s on to something.
But I’d prefer to paint.
Stay tuned for the second half of the kitchen painting adventure.