Alone On An Island -- A Kitchen Island

Bridget was on her own. For weeks, perhaps months, before we got married, she talked about a magical black kitchen island from Crate and Barrel. She talked about how it would help with storage. She talked about how it was sleek, slender, and sturdy. She even tried to appeal to my sense of humor by telling me, in the spirit of The Big Lebowski, that it would really tie the room together. 

Me? I thought it was clutter. I thought it was unnecessary. I thought it was dumb. But marriage is about compromise, so we took some of our wedding cash and headed down the street.

To my surprise, the experience at Crate and Barrel was actually fantastic. (How can getting a kitchen island be enjoyable in any way, right? Seriously, if you live in the area and ever need to make a significant purchase for the home, go see Jeffrey at the Cambridge store. His customer service skills are impeccable.) We found what we wanted, ordered it, paid the extra 60 bucks to have it delivered (because, for some ungodly reason, it weighed 176 pounds in the box), and waited about two weeks. Bridget waited with bated breath. My breath was normal.

Finally, it came. As I was out playing kickball and then drinking at a bar after kickball (I mean, you have to go to the bar after), Bridget started to put it together. Now, she's quite good at putting things together. She threw a complicated bureau together in an hour last year. This time, though, she ran into trouble early. There was one big piece that just wasn't fitting the right way. I came home and tried to help, knowing full well that putting furniture together results in an argument 100% of the time. ("What do you mean these screws are too short? They are the ones that came in the damn box!")

But we made some progress. And the next night, a wild, crazy Friday night for a newly married couple, we turned the final screws on our new kitchen island. (Who says single people have more fun?!) Immediately, Bridget glowed. "Was it everything you expected it would be?," I asked. "Yes! Yes, it's wonderful," she said.

I have to admit I was happy to see her so happy, but now I had to contend with this big thing in the middle of the kitchen. And during the next couple weeks, I had to avoid it. Sure, we actually had more room now because there was less clutter. Sure, it was incredibly convenient to have a table in the middle of the kitchen. Sure, it looked good. Sure, it really tied the room togeth...

And then it hit me. She was right. She was 100%, no-question-about-it correct. And I, sadly, was wrong. The lesson learned? The stuff that makes a house into a home -- like curtains, a nice wastebasket, a new coffee table, or a kitchen island -- really matters.

Now, she wants stools for the island. I think they are unnecessary. I think they are clutter. I think they are dumb ... And I should probably just go down to Crate and Barrel to get them before she crawls out of bed this morning.