Worse before It Gets Better

Just when I thought the kitchen couldn't get anymore gutted, I came home to find this: The entire wall between the kitchen and dining room GONE. And the garden window, which I had asked to be moved down has been removed and is now on the kitchen floor. It's progress, but the kind of progress that requires patience, because more trauma has been inflicted on the scene than had been previously and it just feels like forever before this monster job gets wrapped up.

This evening Jim and I ran errands at the mall. The Glendale Galleria to be exact. And while a part of me finds the place excessivly cringe-worthy due to its being the mall of my youth, (Let's face it. This is L.A. It's the mall I'm from.) It suddenly dawned on me that the mall is infinitely more pleasant than home. Especially for Poppy. There are wide expanses of carpeted flooring for her to run around (and fall down) on. No construction dust. No loose nails or shards of drywall. Climate controlled throughout. And multiple eat-in food options -- an essential for someone with no kitchen to go home to. At this point we don't even have a sink.

If it weren't for the temptation to shop, I'd move in.