Shortly after Aaron and I returned home from Panama City, Fl (the host city to Aaron’s first Ironman) we started renovating our kitchen. “We” also includes my dad, a seriously skilled carpenter.
At different points throughout the renovation we were without a range, or cabinets, or a sink, or a counter, or a dishwasher… None of these stages lasted too long. However, my least favorite was being without a kitchen sink. I never realized how much I used it. It evoked a similar feeling as when the power goes out and we still flip the light switch. I knew the sink wasn’t there, but I had paint to wipe up, or a brush to rinse, or my hands to wash- so to the hole in the counter I went. Oh. Riiiiight.
With the dishwasher out, sparse counter space and no sink I took the dishes and soap to the bathroom. (How we managed to still cook and make messes we made without a complete artillery of appliances is mind boggling.) We only have one bathroom with a tub. That would be the same one we shower in daily.
Washing the dishes wasn’t really a big deal. I had dish soap, hot water, a sponge. But I had this nagging feeling that someone or something was watching me. Something porcelain and about 3 feet away. I’ll just say this: washing dishes in the same room where you poop is weird.
On that note how about some before and after pictures!?