Demolition is infinitely easier than the act of creation

The Rev. celebrated Memorial Day with a little demolition in the house. He scraped the long loathed popcorn ceiling in the dining room, and instead of having to fret about it getting into our once white carpet, he ripped the offending flooring up as well. For all that effort, he discovered an even more offensive pea green linoleum, circa "The Brady Bunch." Shudder. The offending linoleum was removed, and he discovered that it had been applied with a black glue that has given our dining room a rather gothic, pseudo-industrial look. It fills me with angst. I can imagine the pea green linoleum complemented by the sunburst yellow stove and fridge (both still in our possession)and dark cabinets and I shudder again. We are still in possession of the dark cabinets; the previous owner painted them a glaring shade of white, about 32 coats of high gloss eggshell. She failed to paint the insides of some of the cabinets, so I experience the two natures of man when I am in the kitchen, open and shut, light and dark. SIGH. One room semi-demolished and two bedroom, two bathrooms, one hallway, one office, and a backyard to go.

The Rev. sees the angst as motivation to save money and pour any and all extra resources into our house to make it our house, with flooring, cabinetry, and a diswasher and stove that are younger than his wife. I agree, but I am also tempted to go to IKEA (accompliced by the parents of godchild #5)and buy a new kitchen while The Rev. attends a conference in Arizona. I WON'TO DO THAT, I PROMISE. I'll just wait until The Rev. comes home and then we will go to IKEA. Just to get ideas, of course.