As you may or may not know, I've been on a modified bed rest for the last four weeks due to a complication with my pregnancy. Sigh.
In between all the board games and movie watching with my two boys, you'll find me scrolling away on the iPad...incessantly pinning items on Pinterest, favoriting items on Etsy and making endless shopping lists of items I want and need. Then I take those lists and go immediately to Craigslist and try to find it for less. I've been contacting sellers on Craigslist as if the site could get shut down tomorrow, and I'd be forever left in a world of retail prices, a sad little junkie who will never get a Craigslist fix again.
You see, when you combine the "my-baby-is-coming, everything-must-be-perfect" nesting situation that happens in pregnancy, with an already borderline obsession with swapping out items I have with "new" items from Craiglist, then multiply that by the helplessness one feels at the idea of not being able to leave the house to go shopping and prepare for said baby - I'm convinced that even the most sane of women could go a little crazy. That could lead them to scheduling a few Craiglist runs on their already-spread-too thin husband's to do list. Then, even the most patient of husbands can shift from enthusiastic deal-loving partners, to slightly annoyed, overworked nay-sayers. We haven't reached that stage yet, but I think I may be entering that territory after the fridge textversation we had this morning.
We're renting our little house right now, and the fridge here is atrocious. I was definitely spoiled in our last home - we bought a new one right after we bought the house. but the buyers wanted the appliances when we were selling, so my lovely stainless steel french door fridge stayed put.
Goodbye, shiny fridge with working ice maker and awesome beeping noise that let me know when the kids have ravaged you and left you open...
And hello, rusty crusty crap box that's not yet old enough to be cute in that retro way, but just old enough to where I hate it and snarl at it every time I walk in the kitchen, then have an inner monologue that turns explicit every time I have to fill plastic ice cube trays to make ice, or bend over to rummage through the veggies or reach to the back to get the milk and my belly squishes and my back hurts (#firstworldproblems) and I again curse the fridge and pray for a swift death of the hideous beast.
Ack. See, BAD rust. Not good rust.
Of course I've looked into multiple easy, inexpensive DIY options for improving the situation.
There's the perhaps already overdone, DIY "go-to" solution #1 - put some chalkboard paint on it. I'm kind of one of those DIY snobs where if I've seen it too many times, I officially feel like I'm following, and I just don't want to do it for any other reason that that. Even if the solution is perfect and easy. It's ridiculous, but I want to be the one who thought of it. No, I'm not 6 years old, and yes this ridiculous logic applies to all aspects of my life. Popular food or restaurant that everyone loves but I didn't try it (close to) first? Probably not trying it. Book everyone loves but I'm months late on and I can't be the one to tell you how great it is and that you must read it? Not reading it. TV show everyone talks about but I don't know about it and can't dish? Won't even try it now. It's stubborn and absurd and I am working on it, I swear. I'm not sure if chalk-painting my fridge means I'm cured of this problem, but... I suppose it could be a start.
Here are some awesome chalk fridge options, and what I like most is they are already very close to the old, boxy style of fridge I have, so there are no false expectations of what the end result could be. I'm already polishing a turd here, so...we need to be as realistic as possible.
This one is SO cute - and I love the trim around the edges. Nice work, Cottage4C.
I'm totally loving the green color on this one.
And leave it to Apartment Therapy to take it up a notch and do a chevron fridge.
I have a love/hate relationship with chevron. I love it for others, but fear it in my own home, especially in large doses or more permanent ones that I'll have to live with for a while.
Plus, I think I'm just too lazy. (even if hubby is doing the work!)
Then I discovered magnetic fridge covers. Here are my two favs.
The "flaking wood" magnetic fridge cover from Kudu Magnets for $119.
And the brick magnetic cover from Fridge Fronts. At $59, this is definitely the cheapest of the "easy"options.
But I'm just really not a fan of "faux" anything... So I'm not sold.
(btw; also from Kudu was Noah's favorite, the lego fridge.)
And another that was easy on the eyes but I did not consider...at least out loud...
Got Milk? Ahem. Anyway...
I think my favorite option is the one I found via Pinterest on the 1871 Farmhouse blog:
But how long will I search for a door like this? And when we move into carpentry and power tool territory - it means involving the hubs, and I like to ration my demands so as not to exhaust him or annoy him. I think this has been a critical component to the current success of our marriage. I could run him ragged ("Could?" I can hear him saying...) Honey, you're a good sport. I love you and your willingness to oblige me as I strive to improve our home.
I digress again.
So as you can see, I am open to all options - I want improvement anyway I can get it.
That is sooooooooo what I am all about.
Easy! (paint only!)
I can do it myself! (I think!)
And it has ridiculously cute potential!
I can just picture myself, off bed rest, lovingly restoring it, while my two big boys play quietly in the background, and new baby coos happily from his little bouncy seat while I work, and the birds are chirping and the sun is shining and the dirt is just wiping away! My mint paint applies perfectly and it is glossy and shiny and retro and adorable! All for $100!
Are you squealing with delight at the potential of it all as loudly as I am?
So with the fridge fantasy still fresh in my mind, I text the ad to my hubby and ask him to pick it up. No biggie, right? The fantasy continues..."Sure babe, no problem! I love it! Nice work finding it!" is how it all goes in my head.
The response: "So let me get this straight. You'd like to replace our old fridge - with an old fridge."
I think again about my request from his perspective and everything that will likely take place.
"Hey, babe! Just call this guy, and go pick up this fridge, in your suit and tie after work, k? We don't want anyone else to get it, so we must act quickly. Oh, and make sure to bring a friend because he can't help you lift it. No, we don't need it. Yes, we still have hundreds of dollars worth of baby things to buy and yes, we do still have at least 5 projects that are currently unfinished since I am on bed rest, but...but...but...please just drive an hour to where it is for sale, then please Skype me from the appointment so that I may see the fridge "in person" too, and then we decide together for you to bring it home, and then we'll store it in our garage. Our tiny, already over-crowded one car garage with only a small little mouse trail that's dangerously lined with teetering junk leading to the door to the house, until I'm off bed rest and can redo it? Or, till you get so sick of it being in your way every. single. day. that you decide to do the work yourself? I'll be happy to find all the YouTube videos of vintage fridge restoration ahead of time, get all brushed up on the HOW-TO of it all, and guide you along while you work? While I sit and watch from a chair, with my sippy cup of electrolyte enhanced Smart Water and maybe some icy cold watermelon, while sweat drips off your brow and I'm busy pointing out the spots that "could use just a little more improvement?" I'll share my water...C'mon, honey...please???"
Hmmm. I wonder why he's not as pumped about it as I am...