The time had come. It couldn't be put off any longer. We talked about it, put tape on the floor, drew sketches, got a 3D model of what it would look like courtesy of Lowes and even purchased cabinets. The wall between the kitchen and the dining room was coming out. It was the next step. Had to be.
I was awake and working Saturday morning long before the alarm I set had its chance to wedge me out of bed. Erica's dad was coming over mid-morning and I had to get everything out of the kitchen and at least make it look like I had kind of started to tear things apart. He arrived and we immediately got to work taking out the cabinets, pulling trim and ripping out the floor. Day 1 actually went really well. I managed to walk away with a just one sliced finger. Just an FYI, broken tile is crazy sharp and won't think twice about cutting you deep.
Then came Day 2. Don wouldn't be around for Day 2. It was up to me and my buddy, Steve. He brought some tools and all we had to do was knock out one side of the wall and tear down the soffit. These tasks were somehow remarkably harder without the help of the gritty veteran. Not only harder, but messier. In our defense, we were dealing with some incredibly stubborn building material that we didn't have to deal with the day prior. Metal lathe in a plaster wall is beyond the realm of difficult to extract once applied and allowed to sit for 50 years. It borders on impossible. And I can't tell you how many times I missed the chisel with my hammer and instead hit the knuckle of my index finger.
But it's out now and that's all that matters. The studs were left in because they house some electric wires that I don't intend on contending with. And honestly, they toed those bad boys in with the biggest nails I've ever seen. After taking a few out, I was willing to leave well enough alone to see another day or two.
What did I learn? a) Sissies wear gloves when doing demo. Hence, I'm a sissy. b) When employing one of those 25lb crow bars, always know where the other end is. I was trying to pry a particularly staunch nail out of a 2x4 above my head and upon giving it one last yank, I damn near ripped my right ear off when the other end came crashing into it. Gave myself a good gash though and I'm having trouble feeling the entire right side of my head. c) That wall that we just spent a weekend tearing out wasn't original to the house. Someone actually wanted it there. Makes me want to see what it had looked like when it was first built. d) When your pregnant wife tells you that she won't have your child without a dishwasher in the house, just put in the dishwasher. There is no need to knock out walls and knock off ears, simply install a dishwasher and get back to admiring your freshly-built bench. But then again, it could prove to be a great arguing point sometime down the road... "I tore out a kitchen for you when I didn't even know your name."
Yeah, the larger point here is we're going to be parents. That makes us nervous. Mostly nervous that we're not ready to be parents and therefore we would be, by default, bad parents. So we join the ranks of every nervous soon-to-be mother and father in recorded history. It's nice to know we're not alone.
But it seems a waste of energy to be nervous and/or apprehensive. Kind of like that kitchen demo. I didn't know what I was doing at all. Several times a day, I would look at the still intact wall and wonder just how in the hell I was going to get that thing down without electrocuting, maiming or otherwise hurting myself or the house... and yet, there that wall sits, in many many pieces on my driveway waiting to be hauled to a dump (hopefully for a reasonable price). This is happening, whether I'm nervous about it or not and when it does, we'll do what needs to be done in order to be the best parents that we know how to be. Consider this a soft opening. Baby bump pictures (if I can get away with it) and possibly an ultrasound to follow.
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