Though completely functional, my kitchen must be the loneliest room in my house. I have never been much of a chef, although when the stars are aligned just right I have been known to ticker around a bit in the kitchen. My repertoire of dishes is few so whenever this happens, I try not to deviate from that tried and often rocky path
The kitchen has dark brown cabinets with two double doors. These cabinets are filled with dishes, cups and bowls on one side and spices along with a box of assorted celestial seasons tea and two boxes of assorted individual packs of oatmeal on the other. To the right, below the cabinet doors is the sink, there are generally dirty dishes in the sink just begging to be washed. The sink is surrounded by a forlorn stove to the left and a dish rack to the right. The frequently used white refrigerator is located about 10 inches in front of the dish rack and stands next to the microwave rack, which houses a black microwave and a biscuit colored convectional oven. Right in front of the rack is a six chair, black dining room table with gold trimmings. The white and black stove is generally clean, but always seems to be covered with blankets of empty bowls and the occasional pot or two. So I guess I really do make use of it, even though it snows in Florida more often than I actually cook, you can’t discredit its ability to double as a table. On the, off white colored, wall between the cabinets and refrigerator hangs a smoke detector and the receiver for my wireless doorbell. The kitchen itself is actually apart of one big room which runs right into the living room.
I shop for groceries about once every month. The items I choose are generally the same; a lot of orange juice, if it’s on sale, soda, snacks and water. I will also get instant oats and frozen waffles if my stash in my kitchen has been depleted. The only time that I will buy meats is if I have made up my mind that I am going to attem