Well, I thought we’d come home today to a transformed kitchen. Not so. Much the same as yesterday, which ain’t much as you can see.
--a microwave that will not fit into the space provided. Well, it will fit, but it might burn up because of inadequate ventilation. Possible solutions: spend 500 GBP for a fitted microwave; use the iffy microwave anyway; put microwave on counter and try to be thrilled to have a bookshelf in the kitchen. We chose the last. Finally! A home for all our cookbooks! Ha!
--lotsa wiring challenges, all explained beyond my ability to comprehend. I just realized that all the explanations were by way of getting me to agree to what will be extra charges. Duh. Talk gibberish to me, cite building code standards, and I'll agree to anything. No need to mention money.
--no turn-off for our hot water system. Well, there are turns-offs (two), but they do not work. Ascertaining this problem apparently took hours. And the solution will involve freezing some pipes tomorrow. Not sure why they did not just turn off the hot water, but I guess we should be grateful for that.
They still think they will finish tomorrow. I cannot see how. Maybe it all goes together lickety-split once the electrics and plumbing are done. The various bits are all look like a kid's construction set. Anyway, they promise (threaten?) to be here by 8.
Meanwhile, here's the state of our hallway:
I know this will be excruciating for all my avid readers, but a final report won’t come in until Saturday. Tomorrow at 5 p.m., instead of gazing at our new or not-yet-done kitchen, I’ll be giving a paper on cross-dressers in late medieval London. Not the best timing, but so it goes. My cross-dressers (mostly prostitutes) have proven a happy distraction this week. Ah, if only I could have had a good shower before the talk!
Dinner tonight . . . still be be negotiated. Indian? Lebanese? More anon.