The Kitchen Metamorphosis: From a Simple Stove to a Full-Scale Invasion

They say that home renovation is the leading cause of "accidental" sledgehammer swings and sudden bank account deflation. A few weeks ago, I wrote about our modest dream: a new kitchen. Back then, it was mostly about a new stove and a fresh floor. I was naive. I was young (at heart). I was hopeful.

Since then, the project has mutated. It didn't just grow; it underwent a full-scale biological takeover of that entire section of the house. What started as a "refresh" has turned into a near-total reconstruction. We’ve officially crossed the Rubicon, signed the contracts, and committed ourselves to a month of living like sophisticated refugees in our own living room.

The "Must-Haves" and the "Line in the Sand"

In every renovation, there is a constant battle between the "Must-Haves" and the "Wait, How Much Does That Cost?" items. We’ve finalized the essentials: the kitchen (obviously), the new floor (because the old one has seen things no floor should see), and the replacement of the bay window (the erker). The bay window was a non-negotiable; unless we wanted to continue our current hobby of heating the entire neighborhood via thermal leaks, it had to go.

Then came the "Nice-to-Haves," and this is where we had to put on our homework-hat and do some soul-searching.

The biggest debate was the ceiling. Currently, our roof slants down over the area where the sink and dishwasher live. The contractor—who I’m convinced can smell a budget from three miles away—suggested we "straighten out" the roof.

It sounded tempting. "Think of the space!" they said. So, I did what any logical man would do: I went and stood by the sink. I mimicked washing a dish. I looked at the ceiling. I mimicked putting a plate in the dishwasher. My head didn't hit the roof. The space felt… fine. Would it look more "open" with a flat ceiling? Sure. But would we gain a single square centimeter of actual floor space? No. We would just be paying a small fortune to have slightly more air above our heads. Decision made: the slope stays. Project: Roof Straightening – Deleted.

Next up was the ceiling itself. The painter mentioned that if we didn't replace the whole thing, but just filled the old spotlight holes and drilled new ones, the "scars" of the old holes might be visible. I looked up. I looked at the quote. I looked up again. Unless my guests are planning on bringing high-powered flashlights and a magnifying glass to check my ceiling for imperfections, I think we’ll survive. Project: New Ceiling – Deleted.

The "While We’re At It" Upgrades

Of course, for every euro we saved by keeping the slanted roof, we found a way to spend it elsewhere. It’s a law of physics: renovation budgets must always expand to fill the available space. Not complete because the projects we did delete will save us 15K on the total bill.

First, we upgraded the tap. We are ditching the standard faucet for a Quooker. Now, I don't even drink tea—that’s the wife’s department—maar for cooking, it’s a game-changer. I am a man who values efficiency. The idea of not having to wait for a pot of water to boil before I can start the pasta is enough to make me weep with joy. It’s instant gratification in liquid form.

Then there’s the living room. We have an old wood-burning stove that has been sitting there for years like a soot-covered monument to a time when we actually had free time to chop wood. We don’t use it. It’s basically a giant, heavy paperweight. So, the plan is to rip it out. I’ve volunteered for the demolition work myself—nothing relieves the stress of a renovation quite like hitting something with a sledgehammer. Once the stove is gone, the pros will plaster a nice niche in its place. It’ll be a perfect spot for the cats to sit and judge us, or for some plants that I will almost certainly forget to water.

The 20-Day Countdown (and the Exam Dilemma)

Today was the big day. The signatures are on the paper. We are officially locked in. Now, we just have the "small" task of picking out tiles and deciding which lamps will best illuminate our new life.

However, there is a looming cloud on the horizon: The Schedule.

The contractor wants to start in mid-June. The work is expected to take three to four weeks. On paper, that’s great. In reality, that is the exact window when the boys are sitting for their exams.

I’m an optimist, but I also know that "the rhythmic sound of a jackhammer" isn't exactly featured on the "Lo-Fi Beats to Study To" playlist. I’ve told the contractor that the boys need to give their fiat first. If they fail their math exams because we wanted a boiling water tap and a cat-niche while they were trying to calculate the volume of a sphere, I will never hear the end of it.

So, we are currently in the "calm before the dust" phase. We’ve committed to the project, we’ve trimmed the fat, and we’ve added the gadgets. Now we just have to survive a month without a kitchen while keeping the peace during exam season. But we do have some time to prepare it. And maybe, read probably we will plan a holiday during the renovation.

If you don't hear from in June/July, I’m probably buried under a pile of discarded floor tiles. Wish me luck!

Cheers,
Peter