Last night Husband and I purchased countertops. This was monumental: our last major purchase for our renovations. Of course, we still need a bed and rugs and showercurtainsdrawerhardwareclosetdoors, but I'm going to choose to ignore that laundry list and focus on this small accomplishment.
Remember our cabinets?
They look a little different now because we've moved the appliances into the kitchen. But they're all still soundly attached to the walls, which is, you know, impressive. We're hoping our drywall woes will be fixed and the refrigerator will be installed by the end of this weekend. I will continue to not hold my breath. Still, we finally bit the bullet and bought this:The color is called Sonoma, and I've got to say that the swatch is much prettier in person. They are a gray/green/light brown with flecks of neutral color throughout. We finally decided to go with a Samsung Staron product, because it looks just like quartz but scratches can be resurfaced, there will be absolutely no seams, and the sink flows directly from the countertop, which struck me as especially cool (ah, a crumbless world shall be mine). Plus, our wallets started crying tears of blood and I just don't have the time for that kind of stain removal.This is the sink color, Ivory. I would never, ever pick this color on my own, but it really looked nice with the countertop color, I promise. And it isn't quite so flesh-toned as it appears. Really. Although now that I think about it, my Covergirl foundation is also called Ivory... Actually...could the color be made from easily sunburned Nordic people...?
There's also our garage. Last weekend we sold all the old cabinets and the 60-inch master bathroom vanity. The sale might cover the price of a single 18-inch vanity for our half bath (albeit custom-made. Uuugh, I know, I'm one of those people now). Shall I bend over now or would you like to do it for me?
Before. A dark, dangerous hovel filled with stinky, hairy, cat vomit cabinets.
I don't know if Martha Stewart would go for the third world, industrial look, but at least we can walk in there now. Once we get the stove carted to its new owner, give me about five minutes before I take a sledgehammer to the garage cabinets. Really, you can't call them cabinets. You must instead call them Badly Painted, Badly Cut, and Badly Installed MDF Sheets That Don't Actually Open Or Function As Storage Receptacles. And they're headed for The Burn Pile, baby.