TWO SIZES TOO SMALL

The new apartment is crammed with boxes, from floor to ceiling and from side to side. Many would look around and not know where to begin, but not I. I know that Kitchen is Queen and must be tended to first. Sure, I knew this place was going to be a tighter fit than my previous abode, but I was not prepared for drawers so narrow, so very, very narrow that my little separator thingy where I keep the silverware did not fit! Neither did the other separator thingy where all my miscellaneous utensils are stored.

I kicked the air in front of me and sulked.

But I plowed on and kept pulling newsprint out of boxes and focused intently on breathing slowly and smoothly. And then, another speed bump: not enough cabinet space for pots and pans. What was this, a Fisher Price kitchen for an 8-year-old? Was the person who designed this place imagining a home for elves? Am I Alice and did I unwittingly eat something that turned me into a giant?

Another air kick. More sulking.

And I’m not done yet. The drawers in the refrigerator are itsy-bitsy, too. Two medium-sized crowns of broccoli are apparently too much for them to digest. AND! The stovetop is one of those tricked out ones, all smooth surface and bright red lights. The stupid thing even needs a special cleaning fluid. Sissy!

I’m visiting my mother in Florida this week, but upon my return I shall enter the so-called kitchen and attempt to cook. Expect more air kicks and plenty of sulking.

With knickers tightly knotted,

HHF

See how it doesn't fit?!