The Kitchen Sink

I have used that term recently to inform you of a kitchen disaster in which I used Thai bird chiles in a stew that was too hot for anyone to digest.

Today, someone came to see my under-mount kitchen sink. Glad he came now because it was not installed properly and was about to fall down! Now it’s glued in with silicone and propped up by wood overnight to dry. I can’t really use it, or the disposal or dishwasher or wash dishes by hand. He’ll be back tomorrow to check on it.

We’ve been here for several years and there are certain things that weren’t done right when the builder went through bankruptcy. This is one example. Luckily most others will not have this problem because food is out to dinner or takeout.

I hope that by tomorrow night I’ll be able to make a beef stew for my husband, who has been away two weeks for work and only has two days with us. Also bacon and eggs in the morning, perhaps a grilled cheese for lunch and maybe pizza night on Saturday. We’ll see if my sink “stuck.” I’d prefer an old farmhouse sink rather than these dual stainless under-mount sinks with garbage disposal.

If we weren’t in a city and did not have a garbage disposal it would help if we were living in a farmhouse and had a compost pile, feral cats who came around to eat raw meat I couldn’t carve off bones (I don’t leave much) and neighborly dogs that just came by to visit their Aunt Dee.

Tugging at heart strings, it is. As would say Yoda. We both grew up in the USA under different circumstances. We lived out in the country on 23 acres because we wanted to do so and did nothing but mow our land. I mowed that land for probably a total of six solid months over a three-year span. I learned to drive a Toro with a clutch at age eight. Dad should have hired the field out to a farmer with a shredder but he got me and my sister to alternate to make our fifty cent per week allowance. Cheap help.

My husband’s family ran a dairy for a livelihood, 600 acres. But the dairymen’s, two brothers’ kids down the road, 1,500 miles from my husband and well before we met, were our best friends. Two brothers down the road. Sounds like my husband and his younger brother, my brother. He does call me “Sis.”

My husband and I are the kitchen sink. North and South, East and West. Parents farmer and nurse vs. educator and accountant. We may share some Brit and German heritage. Physicist vs. sociologist. How we accidentally ran into each other is a mystery to me, but we met 14 years ago last week, he held my hand and never let go. Kitchen sink as a metaphor. Go figure. Cheers, have a great day! Dee



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