Six months ago a 25 year old plumber put a snake down our 95 year old pipes (as I hovered nearby saying, "I'm not sure you should do that...."). Not too long afterwards I hear him calling, "Lady! There's water coming out of your kitchen ceiling fan!" And so great are my powers of perception, that I knew immediately that all was not as it should be. And once 1/4 of the kitchen ceiling was on the floor we decided it was time to remodel.
Today Barry and Tony, our contractor's A-team, came and put in the counter top and finished off the cabinets, etc. And I'm totally entranced. On just that one wall it looks like someone else's kitchen, some real, grown up type of person. (The rest of the kitchen looks shabby and like it belongs to me.) Anyway, after they left I got out our floor tiles to figure out what fabulously creative design I'm going to make out of them and spread them out over the floor. At which point my eight-year old daughter walks in and says, "Excuse me Mommy. I don't want to offend you, but I don't like this floor." Oh well.