On a cold day last January, my husband and I sat in a rental car after purchasing our first home, realizing that we’d just assumed hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt.
We don’t own a car because we think they’re too expensive, yet here we were, owners of a two-bedroom condo in Arlington, Va. What’s more, we were driving there to start tearing down the hideous 1970s-style kitchen. A new sledgehammer was in the trunk.
Before even moving in – with a budget one saleswoman found laughable and no DIY experience beyond a tiling class my husband took in high school – we were determined to gut the kitchen. One of the key selling points when we first saw the place was a sign on the wall between the kitchen and dining room that read: “This is NOT a load-bearing wall. Can be removed for kitchen renovation.”
At roughly 7 feet by 9 feet, the kitchen was bigger than the one at our old apartment, but it was dark, crowded and closed off from the rest of the place except for a swinging door to the dining room. I’m a social chef, and I wanted a bright, efficient kitchen that was open to the dining room and the living room.
Over the course of nine weekends, many late nights and countless trips to Ikea and Home Depot, we demolished the old kitchen and built an entirely new one. All by ourselves. And for less than $5,000.
How they did it
Weekend 1
Put sledgehammer and 5-gallon bucket of paint primer in trunk of rental car. Went to settlement, got house keys, drove to new home and immediately began destroying wall between kitchen and dining room.
One weekday in between, a friend who actually knows what he’s doing showed my husband, J.J. (I call him J), how to take down the wall. Hint: reciprocating saw, whatever that is, required. Especially in old buildings with thick walls, a sledgehammer just won’t do the trick.
Demolition continued. Chose a weekday so we would be least likely to disturb anyone.
Weekend 2
J used borrowed reciprocating saw (real progress now) to remove soffit, giving us an extra foot of cabinet height. Gutted base cabinets, leaving just enough to hold up counter and sink. Ordered new cabinets from Ikea.
Weekend 3
Cut openings in wall between kitchen and living room. Knocked out old countertop and sink. Dining room started reappearing again as we hauled ridiculous amounts of debris to Dumpster.
Weekend 4
Uncle and cousins started rerouting electrical wires in newly opened wall. J blocked, leveled and drywalled openings (with help, again, of Friend Who Knows What He’s Doing).
My mom drove us to Ikea in Woodbridge, Va., in her pickup to get our new cabinets. Cold and snowing. Truck piled with boxes held in place (we hoped) by bungee cords and twine. With visions of my kitchen scattered across Interstate 95, I insisted we stop for packing tape and more twine. Drove home very slowly, with kitchen sink in the only spot left in the truck: my lap.
Hauled large, bulky, heavy boxes up three flights of stairs; one was 8 feet long and weighed 90 pounds. Exhausted and sweaty, even in freezing weather. Eventually, boxes took over living room.
Weekends 5 to 7
Several projects converged at once. J built cabinet frames and started laying slate kitchen tiles while I used rented sander to start refinishing hardwood floors in rest of house. He finished about a third of tiling before we had to move cabinets from dining room into kitchen so I could keep working on floors. That task took up next two weekends, so progress on kitchen ground to a halt.
Weekend 8
Moved cabinets back into dining room. J said he’s not certain he used correct adhesive for slate tiles, so he scraped them up. Most survived. Together, we re-tiled kitchen floor. Grouting was hell because it kept getting stuck in ridges of tiles, requiring hours of scrubbing with a wet sponge before we could apply sealer.
Weekend 9
Moved appliances into place. Hung cabinets. Cut laminate countertop to size and attached to base, then cut opening for sink (twice; first cut was too small). Sink went in, and it really started looking like a kitchen.
