Here We Go Again

In the meantime, there is much drama developing in the ongoing saga of my kitchen renovation, now known the world over as Hell's Kitchen.

I'd finally gotten Wally's attention. He'd come back to paint the door, and remove randomly flung blobs of this and that, turn a cabinet door or two around, pushed the oven into place, yadda yadda yadda.

One night a week or two back, I was peeling shrimp at my new sink.  I was admiring the new sink's depth, and looking forward to using my zippy new garbage disposal (I've never had one before. I want to throw everything in there) and noticing the difference it makes to have a sink that has no edge at the top to catch all the gunk as you wipe the crumbs and goo from the countertops into the sink.  And I was noticing how nice it is to finally have the sink centered under the windows and dead center of the counter for the first time. To me it was bad feng shui to have the sink two inches to the right. It felt all wrong.  No amount of chanting and incense could rid me of the off kilter feeling. For 14 years.

And then I remembered that Wally had also centered the ridiculously expensive overhead lighting (conveniently bundled with the completely unnecessary electrical outlet feature that I will never use) I decide to flick on the light for the first time, just as the phone rings. It is Scott.

I grab the phone and return to the sink to turn off the water to talk.

And then I notice it. The tiles look crooked. Like some corners are sticking out. Like they are being forced from the wall by some unseen thing poking them from behind. I think about Bad Ronald from that creepy 70s movie. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0071186/plotsummary)

I gasp and mention it to Scott. I had not noticed it before. Was the wall moving them?

He tells me he'd flicked on the light the week before and had noticed it, but had not said anything since he was sure I'd noticed myself and had given Wally a run for his money.

No, I told him. I hadn't. What should I do?

Flash forward.

I am convinced that nothing can be done. Scott thinks I should not let it go. A week goes by. I have asked for a million opinions. I have gotten a wide variety of answers. I have just gotten my final bill from Wally. I hesitate to pay it. Scott suggests I take some pictures and show Charlotte. She'll know what to do. When it comes to renovations, I am  a rookie. She is a grizzled veteran.

I take a couple of telling pics. I email them to her. And my phone immediately ring-a-ding-dings. "OMG. E-mail these to Wally immediately!"

So I do. And to give my e-mail a little clout, I include Charlotte's comments, eliminating any potential for him to play one sister against the other. He will know when he reads the message that Charlotte has seen the craftsmanship and has encouraged me to take issue. First points on the board go to me.

I craft a very carefully worded e-mail. It makes its point. Scott says I may as well have just kicked Wally in the nuts. Not my intention, but I did want him to know that I have come to expect better work from his company. He'd never walk away from my sister's backsplash with it looking like a toddler did it. I invite him to come have a look. I leave him a key, since he assumed he'd finished and returned the one he'd had all effing summer.

Finally, I now have an answer. He looked at the pictures and thinks the wall is bowed (it is not.) And what he does not know from the pictures is that they are from 3 different spots on the back wall. If it is "bowed" it would have to be bowed in 3 places...which means that it would be more accurate to say that it is "wavy."

By now, Wally has been to the house. He's viewed the tiles and seen the shadows they cast. He agrees that they are not flat.

He tells me the wall is bowed in three places and he'd like to remove the tile and replace it at no expense to me.

The result I want but not the answer. The wall is not bowed. It is perfectly flat. And I know this because Wally put up the wall himself. It was bare and unpainted for weeks. I know from vast exposure to it in its raw, basic form. And if it were bowed, it's his fault.

But if that is what Wally has to say to save face, I don't need to rake my fingernails down it. Let him believe he's duped me. Charlotte and I know better.

And now, we reopen the Pandora's Box of Hell's Kitchen one more time.