. . . a single black basalt mortar and pestle. That’s the
only thing on my kitchen counter . . .
in my dreams.
I long for minimalism. Instead, I am drowning in stuff.
Because of ‘renovation’, I have no closets. NO CLOSETS! Take a look around and
imagine that you live with no closets. Bills? Shoes? Shopping bags? Spare
hardware? They’re all at the front door alongside boxes of glass jars to be
filled, pails of honey, a bronze bee door knocker, pail of sugar to mix for the
hummingbirds, castor oil, vitamin E, and vanilla extract for products, plastic
tomato clips, fish fertilizer . . . get the picture?
Oh, I have a few kitchen cupboards – heavy oak
honey-coloured panel doors that were crafted by a former owner of our house. In
fact, when Wally came to visit after we first moved in, he practically wept
when he told us about how he made those doors. I didn’t dare tell him that I
couldn’t wait to replace them.
My vision is wall to wall, floor to ceiling closets.
European and sleek, seamless edges and a sliver of a stainless steel pull tab
for opening and closing. Shelving and drawers are concealed inside to hold
everything that is now spewing out and multiplying daily, as our busy season
envelops us.
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