Lagoon, Meet Your New Sister, The Deep End.

Ever since I painted the floor in The Lagoon, I've been jonesin' to give the kitchen a little makeover. It's not that it was awful (at least, I didn't think it was awful until I changed it), but it wasn't particularly pretty. See, the cabinets were a color that I like to call "Formerly White, Now Nicotine Yellow" (the people who lived here before us smoked in the house). The cabinets were chipped, the trim was looking rough, and the whole room was just kind of dingy. One of the walls even had [hopefully not lead] paint chipping off of it.

And don't even get me started on the wallpaper.  Sure, there was a certain charm about the strawberry print that had probably been there since the late '70s.  But it was peeling off, and also sported the smoker dinge.  Yuck!

(see the chipped cabinets at the top of the picture?)

I had resisted the kitchen project because I knew that it would be a bitch, and, plus, we rent this house.  To do it right would require days of work and waiting for paint to dry, and more work.  Plus, we wouldn't really be able to use the kitchen during that time.  I knew that the expense would be minimal, but I didn't know when I would have the time or energy to take on such a feat.

And then Matt made plans to go out of town for the weekend.  I didn't have much to do, and I had four nights with nothing planned.  Hmph?  So Thursday night I was talking to Cassie about how bored I was going to be all weekend, and threw out the idea that I might just tackle the kitchen project, and she encouraged me to go ahead and do it.  For about fifteen minutes we discusssed what to do, and then, inspired, I set out for Home Depot.

Eighty-two dollars later, I had three gallons of paint and some supplies (and two new friends from the paint department).  I made myself a little schedule:

• Thursday night, remove wallpaper
• Friday, remove everything from kitchen and prime all walls and cabinets
• Saturday, paint all cabinets
• Sunday, paint walls, clean up, and put everything back in its place

Easier said than done. 

I think at this point I'll just let the pictures tell the story. . .

Phew!  That was a lot of work!  But it sure was worth it.  Check it out.

This bin was the only new item (with the exception of the Amish Butterprint bowls) to enter the kitchen.

(That note on the refrigerator says, "This is your last chance to forgive me and that's what God wants."  Cassie found it at the kiddie table at Old Navy and gifted it to us.  Oh, and do you see where I missed a spot?) 

I had to frame part of the border, just like how Uncle Jesse on Full House framed the pink bunny.

Howl if you love the new kitchen!

Total cost: $89 (and the brain cells I lost while priming).

And how's this for a before and after?

Oh, and I know it's been killing you that The Lagoon has such an awesome name while the kitchen has to settle for "the kitchen."  Well, no more!  Starting tonight, we will refer to the kitchen as The Deep End. (Thanks for the suggestion, Cassie!)

The Lagoon

We have a room in our house that I believe was once a porch, but has been enclosed with walls and windows.  It's 10' x 11', and in that space there are eight windows, so we called it the sunroom.  Because we hardly ever use our front door, the sunroom is the room where we always enter the house, with our dirty feet and paws.  And although the rest of the house is hardwood (except for the tiled bathroom), the sunroom had carpet--indoor/outdoor, used-to-be-blue, disgusting, old, smelly carpet.

I HATED the carpet. 

So a few months back, I contacted our landlord to ask for permission to pull up the carpet and paint the concrete floor beneath.  She happily obliged, and when I promised not to go too crazy with the color, didn't seem bothered, telling me that she could always put down carpet again after we move if it's ugly.  Excellent.

But then I'd waver, trying to decide if the amount of work I'd have to do to pull up the carpet would be worth it.  The project was one of the things on my summer to-do list, but I knew it was a lofty goal, and didn't actually think I'd get around to it.

And then one night I talked to Becky, who is in the process of buying a house, and our conversation revolved around home renovations, decorating, and DIY projects.  And I was inspired.  The next morning when I woke up the very first thing I thought about was that ugly-ass carpet, and I was motivated. 

And after five trips to Home Depot, $86, several conversations with Larry the Home Depot Floor Expert, blood blisters, sore backs, and a few days of hard, miserable work, I did it. 

But let's back up. 

Since I got to pick the color myself, I had a big decision to make.  I wanted something fun, something dark enough that it wouldn't show every speck of dirt, but light enough that it wouldn't show dog hair.  And I couldn't help but to come back to these tea towels that Matt's mom got me for Christmas.  (They're some of the nice towels in the kitchen, and I almost don't want to use them because they're so pretty.)

And on trip #1 to Home Depot, I saw that Ms. Martha had her own line of paint colors.  Basically, I chose the color that matched up best with the towels, Lagoon.

But there was a lot of work to do.

There was the initial pulling up of the carpet, and then the scraping of foam.  Easy enough.  I did it with Matt's grill scraper.  (He was at the movies when I turned into a home-renovating psychopath.)

But then there was this glue, this carpet glue that had been there for decades.  It wasn't going to come up easily.  I used chemicals, and I used boiling water, and I used 4" razor blades, and I used a hair dryer.  That glue can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned. 

After about two days of glue removing misery, we were done.  (Matt helped after I stood in the middle of the room, sweating like crazy and almost in tears, cussing at the glue and holding my sore wrist.)

And then I primed.

And then painted.

And I bought a rug. (for $10--hell yeah, Marshalls!)

And moved in some items from around the house.

And now look!

And now it's my new favorite room in the house, and it makes me smile every time I walk [swim] into it. 

Here's a little side-by-side comparison.

I'm in love.