Yesterday we finally got the last cabinet. Some time next week, we'll have the cabinet fronts back, newly repainted--did I tell you that? All the new cabinets showed up with the paint peeling off. grrr.
The new cabinet is perfectly painted, and the cabinet maker is making things right. When he brings the fronts, he'll also repaint the base cabinets. Yeah, those got munged, too.
So: Floor, check. Last cabinet, check.
What remains: Framing for the fridge--it got pushed into what was the door to the back porch, which is now a sorta shed accessible only from the new deck; the countertop for the new cabinet; and the painting. Oh, and a new unfitted glass display case/cabinet where I can put my pretty things like teapots that I regularly use.
We're already re-organizing things. I winnowed my cookbook collection from nearly 100 volumes down to 30, and from there, down to 17 remaining books, all beloved.
The major casualty: My ancient, falling-apart copy of "Laurel's Kitchen," which I've kept all these years solely for the introduction. Carol Flinders' essay on the value of women's work is absolutely brilliant, as was her similar essay in the first edition (I had the tenth anniversary second edition).
But the recipes themselves are horrid, the nutritional advice is outdated, and we are about as diametrically opposed to vegetarianism as we can be. If I could get a chapbook of the introductions, I'd buy it in a heartbeat. But the book itself is in my recycling bin.