So I should probably start by saying that I know I’m a little crazy about my kitchen. It’s my good place. It’s where I go when I’m angry or sad or frustrated. I also go there when I’m in a good mood, but it’s really a sanctuary when I’m not. And I’m very particular about where things belong. When I say “very,” I mean it. I actually instructed my husband and 19-year-old not to unload the dishwasher recently because they don’t put stuff away the way I would. I know, a little over the top. But I need things to be where I expect them to be when I’m cooking. I even organize my spices in a very specific order. It’s really upsetting when I go to grab oregano and it’s the basil!
All of that was a set up to the fact that I am currently trying to learn to share my kitchen. My 19-year-old moved back home, and she loves to cook. Today, she has taken over my kitchen most of the afternoon making treats for Valentine’s Day. And I just know my pantry is not in order. And my spice cabinet has been out of order for a week. And the refrigerator. Oh man, that one is tough. If I had the half-n-half in the door, that’s where I wanted it! Also, where am I supposed to hide? The cats are in the bedroom. My husband and other kid are in the office, which is open to the living room. And the dining room is essentially my office right now, so that’s not peaceful.
To top it all off, my husband has been randomly deciding he’ll put away the dishes or cook. Not that usually mind the food, but what is happening here? And where is my damned tea strainer now? Hahaha. I sound like a lunatic. Shouldn’t I just be grateful when someone else makes the meal? I try. And I am actually grateful for the meals. I just want control. I admit this. I’m too possessive of my kitchen. So I’m working on it. We even schedule one night a week for the 19-year-old to plan to cook.
Now, I gotta go fix that spice cabinet.