Remodeling The Kitchen Week 13 - The Saga Of Buying A Sink

Well, here we are on week 2 million thirty-six 13 of the lovely kitchen remodel. It has been a long time without a sink, and we are all growing tired of it fast.

After the fire-clay disaster we decided on a stainless one at Lowes, mainly because we could get it using Mr. Cottage's military discount of 10% off plus it was on sale 30% off its usual price (and so I don't scare the houseguests or random children who happen to be at my house for some unknown but probably good reason when they drop something in my sink).

To use the discount we were told we couldn't go online and order the sink from Lowes.com. Seriously? You mean we have to go out into the world of scary humans to order this thing? Yes, yes we did. So we piled in the car and headed to the nearest local store, as often as we end up there they should just put a sign with our name on it on a parking spot -Reserved For The Rosevine Cottage Girls, violators will be blogged-. Anyway, we got to the store, parked in our unreserved parking spot only to be told "Oh, really? Well, we don't have those in stock" insert here rapid blinking and staring at the speaker with mouth slightly ajar with lots of silent questions pinging back and forth in our brains all starting with the word "Why?". So after salespeople (apparently it confuses them as much as us when you have to order in store an object they don't have in stock) in the sink department and over 2 1/2 hours of waiting (they really need to think about serving refreshments) we had to go online, (remind me again why we couldn't do this from home?).

The said salespeople definitely not "IT savvy" made the process amazingly painful. And when I say painful I do mean painful -like can you just move over and let me do it? Or better yet can I do this from home? Where I wanted to in the beginning, where I could sit in my nighty and sip tea and not have to face the world of salespeople. At one point I just had to go and walk around the store because they were making me so crazy. We were assured at last they finally had our sink ordered and that we could pick it up in 10 days (I think I hear angels singing in relief) with the receipt at the store.

Alas, alas we could FINALLY check out- if the guy could figure out how to use the printer. At this point, I have this aching feeling of sinking dread in my heart (like when you go to the coffee pot for a second or third or whatever -at some point you just have to stop counting- cup and find the pot empty) you know that feeling right? Couple that with a strong case of low blood sugar and extreme food allergies (as in if I eat something that has been even near soy and my mouth breaks out in blisters and my throat closes up) and 2 agonizing hours of Lowes fumes and anxiety and you have me, SOOOO ready to go home.

Finally, with printed piece of paper in hand, we proceeded to check out- where the lady (what do you call the people who check you out? That didn't sound right...) refused to use the military discount because it was an ordered item, IE. the only reason we'd come to the store in the first place! AKA - we'd just spent 2+ hours trying to buy a sink in store, that wasn't in stock so we could us Mr. Cottage's military discount for no reason. When are you too old to lay on the floor and cry?

I was not happy.

We left Lowes unhappy- no more like mad - imagine the Hulk, but red and hungry and smaller, and with a TON of stuff still to do before we could go home and eat, so we headed for the car, keeping an eye out for any all acquaintances who met us in such and such place years ago and expect us to remember who they are that might make the mistake of making an unexpected arrival and feel the need to chat. No, I don't remember you!

After doing our grocery shopping and bumping up our seen the last of its good days -and bad days- driveway (another project on the ever-growing, all-powerful, weekend-ruining to-do list), we lugged all the stuff into the Cottage (why do we feel the need to pretend we're an octopus and carry every single bag in the back of a minivan just so we don't make another trip?) and got everything put away, found the ice pack for my shoulder (call it a battle scar from shopping) and sat down. On a whim, I decided to pull out the order from Lowes (you know the one that the guy couldn't figure out how to print). Now right about here is where I woke the dead- it was the wrong sink. WHAT????????????? Yep, 2+ hours of pure torture and they ordered the wrong sink.

Mr. Cottage at this point says he can't manage another trip into town so he says he will deal with it in the morning and just get up early- and then go to work after. By this time the sale was over and not wanting to spend another 2 hours of his life at the sink /plumbing department (let's face it there is only so much you can look at) he "returns the sink" we don't even have yet  / cancels the order and goes to work (another 1 1/2 hours away).

The next day we get a ring on our doorbell (we're going to pretend we didn't all freeze and stare at each other like there was a monster at the door) and can't figure out what it could be. By the time we reach the door reign in the dog who also thinks there is a monster at the door and doesn't like the fact that we are trying to open said door there is no one there- only a gigantic box. We just look at each other, then at the box, then at each other. Someone either likes A LOT or there is something very wrong.

It takes all three of us (under Faith's supervision) to get that very large parcel off the front porch and into the foyer and when we do we see that it's a sink. The wrong sink- the one we canceled the order on and had to pick up at the store in 10 days! Yes, less than 24 hours later it was sitting in my house.

So after sitting there for several moments just staring at it as if we stare long enough it will turn into the right sink, I call Mr. Cottage who is busy at work removing the machines that were his livelihood and shipping them off to Canada and himself to the dregs of unemployment. When he finally has a moment to crawl out of the chaos to return my call -he just sighs- "Ok, I'll take care of it..." is all he can manage. I hang up and hand my head- does every step of this journey have to be filled with chaos?