Pardon me…

…while I take my blogging time to clean out the medicine drawer in the kitchen, because I can stand it no longer. Who could find anything in here?

It’s been said that you can discover a lot about people by looking in their medicine cabinet. What I wouldn’t give for a medicine cabinet. The way my house is laid out, if you want to get to a bathroom, you have to either go up or down stairs. Nothing on the main floor, which tips the inconvenience scale too far for my taste. So instead, we have the medicine drawer in the kitchen. As you can see, things got so crowded that I ended up labeling the tops of the lids, which beat the heck out of picking up each bottle to see if it was the one I needed. Ridiculous.

If I had some available wall space somewhere, I’d have the Thriller put in a small cabinet. But no. My particular middle-class house was built in a time (1916) when, apparently, function won out over beauty and stretch-out space.

Hey Santa, how about a kitchen remodel? Cripes. OK, complaining over with. For now…


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