an open letter to all the people who, over several decades, have decorated our kitchen

Dear Decorators,

Seriously, what the hell. You started out with a nice plaster wall. Then you went with some light yellow paint. Wonderful move. Not far from the shade of yellow we intend to paint those very walls. Then something happened and you suddenly started painting in a horrid mustard color. I believe it was called Harvest Gold.

Not to be outdone, someone else painted half of the walls--only half, and I don't mean they painted two out of four, I mean they painted halfway up from the floor on ALL the walls--a robin's egg blue. Actually, it's more of a Demented Turquoise.

And then someone, god forbid I find out who, decided to wallpaper the kitchen. Leaving, of course, the exposed Demented Turquoise. Did the paint threaten you? You can tell me. I'm not afraid of it. Well, just a little.

But surely your Wallpaper From Hell could have stood up to Demented Turquoise. On any given square foot of that paper, you have what... seven or eight pieces of dancing fruit? It could have taken DT in a fight.

But oh how the mighty have fallen. Our primer may take a few coats, but it's covering the good yellow--the one shining moment in our kitchen's tragic history--the Harvest Gold, and even that sick bastard Demented Turquoise. And the wallpaper is nearly all gone, save for a few dangling strips over the fridge. They wave in the ceiling fan breeze like strands of hair on a row of scalps.

You did your worst. You installed horrible appliances, you put up awful cabinets made from fake wood. You used the ugliest and least ergonomic hardware available. --Did you have to special order it from a Nazi camp? You even gauged holes in the wall and stabbed the plaster. You installed a faulty shelf that periodically tips over, raining all its contents over the kitchen, making us wonder if the place is haunted. You even had a goddamn electric stove. How do you sleep at night?

I am no longer worried. All that is left of you is an awkward border in an unholy shade of blue, a fake tile floor, and those goddamn cabinets.

I will see you and your dancing pears in hell.