Remember when I started the kitchen project? I wrote that post about how Derek never reads my blog, because he is around the real thing, which is pretty intense…so for him there is no need to check in and read the blog happenings. Here is a quick excerpt, but to read the whole post, click here.
Derek doesn’t read my blog. Well, I shouldn’t tell you that he never reads it. He does sometimes. Just not often. He doesn’t really need to. We talk, he sees me, he lives with me {well, most of the time} for goodness sake. Basically he knows all there is to know about my goings on. There is no need for him to spend time reading a recap of what he witnessed first hand. He lives the adventure…and gets bonus features. Like all my lame jokes, seeing the awkward unfold before his eyes, and putting Band Aids on all my mishaps.
Between you and me, I think he gets enough of my madness as is.
All that to say…I’m pretty sure I can safely write to you about my next project without Derek finding out.
When I wrote that I was totally sure that Derek actually didn’t read the blog. That he never checked Facebook. That I really was being a bit sneaky.
Well, as I’m sure you can surmise by all this build up, he found out a bit prematurely.
Here’s how it all went down.
Scene: My kitchen. Things are just about finished. The cabinets are painted and glazed, but not hung. The ugly light above the sink is gone and a lone DIY go-getter {me} is standing on the counter attempting to hook up the new, pretty fixture with little luck. She’s frustrated and about to give up and have a Girl Scout Cookie or two, when suddenly from the living room, Skype starts ringing.
So I answer and try to chat nonchalantly as if there is no gigantic mess in the dining room and my kitchen isn’t torn apart. I’ve kept the secret for a few days, I’m golden. He doesn’t know a thing.
We chat for a few minutes, but I just can’t get my mind off of that stupid, new light fixture. I figure that I’m past the point of no return anyway. There is no way he can talk me out of refinishing the cabinets now, no way I can undo what I’ve already done. I start with an innocent question, something vague about hanging lights. That’s when I know. I know he knows what I did last summer.
“Where are you putting a new light?”
There’s something in his voice that tips me off. So I ask,
“You know?”
“About the kitchen? Yeah, you’ve been writing about it for days.”
I tell him how I didn’t think he read all that crap I post online, he never gets on Facebook, that whole thing. Then he sums it up,
“I don’t read your blog when we live together. We only talk once a day now. So of course I’ve been reading it. I just figured you’d tell me about the kitchen when you were good and ready.”
Jokes on me. I’m not so sneaky after all. But he did tell me that it’s good I went ahead and took this project by the horns. He said if he was here he would have tried to talk me out of it, and he definitely would have insisted that I not paint them white. Bahaha. To late!
I think he liked the finish product. And I’m sure he’ll like it even more when he lays eyes on it in person.
Amy
