Keeping Trim With Men Around

It’s been a week and a half; this is getting ridiculous. I’ve got to get this kitchen story finished! At least before the new cabinets arrive and it all begins again. So this time I mean it:

Camp Speedy or bust!


I honestly don’t remember anymore what the kitchen looked like when I got back from California. I do know that they (meaning Andy) had found a reason to pull the trim off both the doors and windows. The trim that, although far from lovely in its present state, did exactly match the stuff that I’d spent (say it with me) two years stripping paint off of in the living room.

Lord knows I didn’t plan on stripping that woodwork now. I couldn’t. Not until my nose hairs grew back, at any rate. But the thought was out there. In fact, the idea had occurred to me that I might pull it out of the kitchen myself – someday. I might strip it and put it in the dining room, to replace the truly fugly brown crap that some madman thought would be a good idea. Or I might just leave it where it was and paint it a nice color instead of its current shade of Forty-Seven-Years-Of-Kitchen-Grease.

Who knows what I might have eventually thought to do with that nice antique trim? But now all I can do is burn it.

Because not only did Andy pull it off, he took a sawzall to it and left in outside in the rain.

That shit is toast.


(Please remember, if you’re commenting, how much we love our Andy. And please keep in mind that Johnny was at least an abetter to the trimicide, if not a full-fledged accomplice. I have made my peace with this, and so can you.

Then again, I've had two years to come to terms. So go ahead and grouse away.

But if you say anything mean about my boys, I’ll killya!)