Tuesday, July 14, 2009

I have many kitchens...

Megan moved into her first home in April. Though the move from being an apartment dweller to a homeowner is monumental, the distance between her old and new abodes was but three miles. Rather than packing as if she were making a transcontinental move, Sally and I suggested that we take looting as our model. Looters don't use specially designed packing boxes or much newsprint in transporting their wares, and neither did we. Grab it and go became our motto and modus operandi. Though it took several trips, Megan's belongings made their three mile trek without significant incident.

Based partly on this recent success, Sally and I employed the same method in evacuating our kitchen before the remodeling project. Rather than carefully sorting and packing our things, we pretty much hurled them about to get them out of harm's way before the deconstruction work began.
We did give some consideration to where we might prepare food for the ensuing weeks, (months and years), and set up a bivouac kitchen in the music room. And a coffee area by the washing machine. And the portable gas grill in the workshop area. Appliances, pots, pans, oils, spices and canned goods were strewn about respectively.

None of this seemed strange to us, until the plumber's droll comment. Our mountaineer plumber asked if the area in the back of the basement was my workshop. I attempted a manly tone in reply, but the words I offered in response undercut my parry. "It usually is, when we're not using it as a kitchen."

The opportunistic workman pressed his advantage. "You seem to have a lot of kitchens." I slipped up the stairway to safety. Though I don't believe the plumber heard my internal trumpet sound the retreat, I'm sure he took satisfaction in my hasty withdrawal from the arena.

As it was quite chilly here yesterday, a hot meal sounded good. We're trying not to eat out very often, and the cold mist argued against using the barbecue, so I used the gas cooker and electric grill to make soup and toasted cheese sandwiches. The ventilation fan in the workshop worked perfectly, and the meal was tasty and expeditious. I've decided that, rather than a source of embarrassment, our numerous options for food preparation are a sign of our prosperity. And so I avow with pride, "I have many kitchens."

But I dread the plumber's return.

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