Wednesday, April 4, 2007
The electricians installed the lights today, leading to an ever more finished look. The ceiling fixture is a Mission-style chandelier.
The rest of the chandelier parts are still on the windowsill, as you can see in this shot of the pendant light over the kitchen sink. This light is the second of the two things I picked out with no guidance from Michael, the first being the faucet, on which more later.
On the east wall, there are two Art Deco-style sconces:
And, by the cooktop, one little wall sconce that matches the Mission-style chandelier. If you look closely, you can see that there is a hole in the wall above the sconce. It looks like the first space cut out of the wall for the sconce wasn't in the right place, so a little patching will have to be done here. Oops.
And our oven, which, of course, isn't really pink, is finally out of its box in the living room and into its rightful place on the wall. Now that is progress.
However, what Jim really wanted was running water. When he came home, and saw that the faucet wasn't working, he was irate that the plumber hadn't come today to fix it. I was going to suggest that it might have been a special plumbers' holiday, but he didn't seem to be in the mood for banter, so I said nothing.
Jim announced he was going to Call Adam. Jim hates to complain, and he doesn't much like making phone calls, so Calling Adam is reserved for when Desperate Measures are called for. After he talked to Adam, however, his ire was redirected from the plumber to me. It seems that the plumber had been here today, but the problem was a defective part in the faucet. That is, "there's something wrong with YOUR faucet." As in, "Oh, no, a normal faucet from Home Depot isn't good enough for you. You had to have a SPECIAL faucet." And the part has to be Special Ordered. Probably, his voice implied, from Bulgaria or someplace that has once-a-month mail delivery. I said, "Don't worry Jim, we'll have water in the kitchen soon." "We'll see," he said darkly.
Then his rancor shifted to the refrigerator, which was still in the living room. "I'm moving the refrigerator in the kitchen myself," he announced. I said something helpful like, "That's insane." My friend Mary, who had been observing this exchange, moved quietly toward the front door, looking for escape.
Mary escaped. I went to yoga and meditated on the idea of running water. I brought Jim a big chocolate dessert from Gigi's to make him feel better. He felt better.
Will the Wolf kitchen ever have water? Will Jim return to his normal equable self? Will the pink and blue appliances become stainless steel?