IN MY FEVERED BRAIN

This all started because my sister’s fridge is an odd size.

Back when they built their house they planned their new kitchen around the appliances they already owned ... including this unique sized fridge.  The resulting kitchen is a pretty and efficient work space and has served them well for 30 years.  The fridge has served them even longer and lately it’s been talking retirement in growly, thumpy language that they understand all too well.  The problem is though, its demise is much more complicated than buying a replacement; it means remodeling the whole kitchen to fit a new one in.

This is not the end of the world because after 30 years other things are a bit outdated as well.  They have been exploring options all winter and are getting kind of excited about the project.  My problem is that that kind of excitement is infectious.  I have been infected with the remodelling bug.  There’s no other excuse - my fridge is regular sized and is working fine, but the kitchen it sits in is even older than 30 years and has definitely seen better days.

You have to understand, this is the dead of winter and there is literally nothing else to do.  It’s too early to start plants – I did that last year and they all got so weak and spindly they fell over and died.  I lobbied for a sunshine holiday but was ignored – he’s been playing out in his shop so he’s busy and happy. 

If I bake we just get fat. 

I could go into some kind of house cleaning frenzy ... but let’s be serious here, why would I start that kind of nonsense in my sixties? 

The dog does his part by shedding enough hair to keep me vacuuming at least once a day, but other than that, I’m bored.  I’m sure you’ve heard it said “an idle mind is the devil’s playground”.

So, as of this week I have entered into stage two of this fever.  Stage one was just listening to my sister’s plans.  I understood their desire to be proactive with their planning and not wait until the fridge forced their hand.  Stage two hit when she showed me the computer generated images of what her new kitchen was going to look like.  I was intrigued ... what could mine look like?

If I hadn’t had a dentist appointment the very next day I might have been saved, but that took me to the town where the kitchen planning place was.  I tried to tune out the voices telling me to “Go and see!” but they won and I went home with  all kinds of pamphlets and the promise to be in touch for a home visit the next week.  I just made that date this morning for next Tuesday, and in the meanwhile I’ve toured the company’s showroom in the city with my sister with the dying fridge.  My fevered mind has examined payment options and speculated about budget restrictions.  It is possible that price shock therapy may cure me, but it better happen soon; I’m fading fast.

There are so many things to consider, though. 

Of course, there are the obvious ... colors, styles, storage options, appliance placements, lighting, extras ... you know, the nuts and bolts of the operation, but my mind doesn’t stop there.

Oh no, I have to get into the existential reasoning that always haunts me.  Should I, or shouldn’t I?  Should I be sinking that much money into a farmhouse that may or may not be used again once we retire?  How many years of our use would make it worth it?  Is this the best use of the money I have?  There are people who need kitchens much worse that I do, do I really deserve to improve mine?  I worked hard for that money – it’s mine to spend ... and it’s good for the economy to keep that money moving. 

“Eat your broccoli, there are kids starving in Africa!” 

AAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!

All of this because my sister’s fridge is an odd size.  I’ll keep you posted.