In Which All (Or Possibly Some) Is Revealed

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Okay, close your eyes and dream of my kitchen. Let your (imaginary) gaze wander over the black linoleum, the ludicrously deep cupboards, the sink - not in front of the window, who'd want that? - and the inexplicably high (island? island-ish?) counter.

Got it? Or, like normal people, do you not use up valuable memory space on some random internet stranger's long-ago mentioned kitchen and need a reminder?

Thought so. You know, I'm really starting to question our relationship.*

And since we're lolling around in the past anyway, perhaps I'll let you eavesdrop on the first conversation Seth and I ever had about this house, here in the middle of this ugly kitchen:

Seth: "Isn't it--"

Sandi: "We're not buying it."

In fact - if you can believe it - the kitchen wasn't the worst thing going for the house. This was:

But by the time we (inevitably - I can't resist his handsome face) moved in, the bathroom looked like this:

 And as for the kitchen, well...

Yeah.

So you'll understand me when I say that when the drip-drop of water leaking through our roof, through our cupboards (among many - MANY - other places) and onto our counter, turned out to be not quite as minor as we first thought, and resulted in this:

And, eventually, this:

You'll understand my excitement over the prospect of a new kitchen.

But, wait! There's more!

The side porch started to crumble. We found knob and tube wiring, like a cancer, entwined in every room and infecting every switch, plug, and outlet. The back room turned out to be sitting on dirt instead of, you know, a foundation. And - did I mention? - the roof leaked. 

I'm exhausted just typing it out. Stay tuned, this soap opera ain't nearly done.

*This is a lie. I questioned it long, looong ago, and have come to the inescapable conclusion that you're my people, you adorable weirdos.