Music and Cats

Oooh, look! A pretty shiny chrome thing! Do you know what it is?

Here are some clues:
1) It’s in the kitchen.
2) It’s attached to the wall.
2) I’ve mentioned it in a previous post.


While you puzzle over that, or smile the satisfied smile of one who knows, I’ll tell you the ‘one step back’ story from the end of last week.

Way back when we began discussing this kitchen remodel with our contractor, we told them that we wanted honed black granite countertops. What I really wanted was soapstone countertops, but they were way too expensive. Honed granite has a matte finish, and absolute black has a fine grain, so we could get a somewhat similar look at a much lower price. After the contractor questioned our choice (”you know honed granite stains,” they said, “we know,” we said, “and we don’t expect it to stay perfect”), we went on to discuss in great detail the layout of the large countertop on the sink side of the kitchen. This is the most complicated countertop, as it wraps over the half-height wall between the kitchen and the breakfast nook. We had a couple of long conversations about the intersection between the cabinets, the half wall and the countertop. We worked it all out. And we discussed that the countertop would be cut as a single slab of granite. The counter is exactly 10 feet long, and a straight run; there is no need for splicing. We agreed. All was fine. We selected granite slabs 129″ long, just to be sure the usable area was long enough.

The night before the stone fabricators were scheduled to make templates for the countertops, we discovered a problem with the half-height wall: it had been built 1 1/2″ too long. (There is photographic documentation here here & here.) The next day, after some wailing and gnashing of teeth on my part, and rending of garments and careful thought on the contractor’s part, a solution was proposed and accepted. The countertop templates were made on schedule, and the fabricators went back to their shop to fabricate.

Last Thursday, our countertops arrived on site. I was so excited that I drove home at lunchtime to see them. The countertops were installed, and our carpenter was attaching wood cove molding under their front edges. My first thought was oh how pretty! …and then I saw the splice. The splice where no splice had been planned. Or discussed. Or, most importantly, approved by us.

I hit the roof.

Now, my version of hitting the roof is fairly well contained. I didn’t yell, but our carpenter certainly knew I was angry. The exchange went something like this:

Me: “Why did they splice the countertop?”
Him: “The fabricator said that the granite slab you chose was too short to make it out of one piece.”
Me: “The slabs weren’t too short; we selected them specifically for the length of this countertop.”
Him:”The salesperson called me the day the templates were made and said there would be a splice.”
Me: “That was two weeks ago. Why did you not tell us? Why am I just seeing this now?”
Him: (silence)
Me: “Don’t do any more work on this countertop until we’ve resolved this.”

I called one of the contractor brothers, and left an irritated message. I spoke with the salesperson at the fabricator’s office. It turns out the slab was long enough, but they wouldn’t guarantee a countertop that long. She said that our carpenter had approved the template, which showed a splice. When pressed, she did a song and dance about the strength and brittleness of certain types of stone, but could not tell me how long a countertop they would cut from absolute black granite. Eventually, the contractor called, listened, apologized, and said he’d take care of it.

And then we waited. This, my friends, is the part I find strange and difficult about being “the client.” As an architect, I am part of the problem-solving and negotiation that go on whenever issues come up during construction. I help mediate between the contractor and the client. I make suggestions. I see the inner workings of the process. Not so this time. Instead, we waited while the contractor “took care of it.”

Today, the penultimate step in that process happened. Two folks from the fabrication company, three from our contractor, and Paul met in our kitchen to look at the problem. (I was at work, preparing for a client meeting.) After much discussion, a decision was reached: we are getting a new, unspliced countertop. It will be installed on Monday.

The most frustrating part to me of this whole story is that it stems directly from a lack of communication. Had our carpenter mentioned to anyone - either his boss, or me, or Paul - that the fabricator intended to put a splice in the countertop, the issue could have been addressed then. Now, our project, which was supposed to be completed next Thursday, is behind schedule by 1 1/2 weeks. After almost three months without a kitchen, what’s another 10 days? It’s a lot. Grrrr.

After all that, here’s another photo of the pretty shiny thing. It’s a pot filler faucet, located on the wall where our new gas range will be. I am frankly a bit embarrased by this little luxury item, which I chose to install not because we eat lots of pasta, but because of my little obsession with making preserves. Yes, I am capable of lifting a canner full of water out of the sink, lugging it across the kitchen, and hefting it onto the stove. But now - rather, soon - I won’t have to do so. Both that thought, and the pretty shiny chrome, make me smile.

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