My kitchen is very small. It has no countertops, so all cutting and slicing is done on: a) the top of the half-fridge (already covered with things people normally put on countertops - salt, pepper, bread, etc), b) a cutting board put over the (unlit) electric stove or c) the few inches of space - originally once considered a usable countertop - leftover on a big board that my oven and dishrack rest on.
For the last...oh, I dunno, year... that big board has been the nastiest, most unattractive thing in my house. That board happens to be placed under what used to be a stove chimney, and that chimney still opens straight up to the heavens. Which means, of course, that when it rains, I get a nice little puddle on the board and the electric oven sitting on it. When it hails, I hear the lovely sound of ping! ping! ping! as ice falls into my kitchen. And, when a bird relieves himself overhead, well, that falls with a satisfying plop! into my kitchen, too.
This means that this board has taken quite a lot of heat over the years: dust, rain, hail, and bird shit have collectively brought it to its current disastrous condition. The board is covered with that cheap, wallpaper-for-kitchen-countertops that is supposed to provide a protective layer over the wood, which can be wiped down with a sponge. This "protective layer" is tearing away and ripping in most places. Wiping it down would only result in furthering the damage. Without protection, the wood beneath is splintering, turning soggy, and housing a healthy population of silverfish.
The worst part of having this open chimney, however, is the cold. During the coldest part of the year, there is absolutely no diference in temperature between my kitchen and the outside. Last year, when several bums died during a cold spell, I couldn't cook for over a week; it's simply too difficult to cook with mittens on.
So finally, I had had enough. I called my landlord, a charming woman who is usually friendly and understanding. She first said, "Oh, just put some plastic up there...," as if a plastic bag stretched across the three-foot hole would not only keep out rain, hail, and shit, but would insulate, too.
After asking several times, my landlord asked her brother if he could come close up the hole and, while he was at it, replace the ugly board under the oven (small electric oven).
He knocked on my door at seven am today, armed with power tools. After investigating, he proceeded to rip out the old board. It gave way frighteningly easily, mainly because the wood itself was so warped and beat-up that it just crumbled in his hands.
Then he pulled up a few flat sheets of iron that had been under the disgusting board and said, "Do you want to see something?"
"Sure," I said, walking back into the kitchen.
There, under those sheets, were two small openings, cut out in a basket-like shape, side-by-side. These holes were made of strong, old-school iron. It turns out, I have an authentic wood-burning stove, and what I currently use as the only "cupboards" in my kitchen (they don't really count because they're so small and are down below instead of up above, but they're the closest thing I have), is actually where people used to put logs in underneath the stove. Before my very eyes, I could see my former kitchen, circa 1890. Which is when he says this building dates from.
I'm such a dork I wanted to take a picture, but I didn't want to disturb the handyman's work. Still, it's just cool to see something so old hidden under the "improvements" that have been made in the kitchen since then. And I doubt I could find an apartment in the US with an authentic wood-burning stove still in tact, just covered with a big board so that we can put modern appliances over it.
Now I love my little kitchen. I think a lot of this newfound love comes from the fact that birds can't shit in there anymore. And that the cold is greatly reduced. But mainly, it's the little secret I now know is hidden under the new "countertop."
Congratulations on your lack of shit!