My weekend was dedicated to space, specifically in our kitchen.—I purchased a proper pantry, broom closet, and entry console table. An adult purchase.
Space for cleaning supplies.—Did you know it’s terrible feng shui to have your brooms showing?
Space for pots and pans and extra paper towels.
Space for cat food and litter.
Space for shoes. Be gone the piles on the floor!
Space for the mail and our keys.
I spent Sunday measuring and shopping online. Like a quirky dollhouse, this 1960’s beach bungalow is mine to interiorly design. Why not a yellow broom cabinet and a green pantry? They will match the pineapple-pattered rugs!
“I’ll tell you why not, Cha Cha.” I said, “Because that green pantry is $400. Does it have to be that pantry? Can’t you find a cheaper one?”
I pictured our kitchen with white, black, or gray cabinets. The room felt sad, heavy, and tired.
“Welllll,” said Cha Cha, ready to convince me of what I already wanted.
I called my mother. “Tell me that this metal locker look isn’t something I’m going to regret once I see it in person,” I said.
“Hang on a minute,” she said with a frumple on the phone. Literally, she walked away from my dad so she could hear me better. Figuratively, she put on her interior-designer hat.
My mother knows that our front door opens directly into our kitchen. She knows that if you open the door beyond a right angle, it will slam into the refrigerator on the perpendicular wall. Tucked in the corner, the dual-sided fridge isn’t easy to open either.
Next to the fridge, to the left, the linoleum countertop begins, with upper and lower cabinets. Big wood.
Around the sink, the linoleum buckles and crumbles. The sink does not overlook a window. Oak and linoleum round the corner, surrounding the electric stove on the far wall.
My mother knows that there’s an Amazon-purchased island cart with two bar stools in the middle of my 12×8 kitchen. She remembers when I called her last year about the pineapple rugs that now cover the ugly-tiled floors.
Two walls of our kitchen are kitchen.
I sent my mother a photo of the other two walls.
When you walk into our house, you’ll want to turn left. That’s the wall the entry bench will go on, under the room’s only window.
Entry table, not bench. This was my mother’s first note.
“That’s not for sitting. It will dent if you sit on it,” she said, instinctively as soon as the link had loaded on her phone. She was right. I shifted my mindset.
Now I’m envisioning a space for J to put his keys when he comes home. I’m watching my future indoor plants thrive, the floral greens popping against the metallic yellow of the cabinet. I love it.
“I think you should buy two of the green ones.” said my mother, after hearing my three-pieced plan. “Why not?”
“I’ll tell you why not. Because they are $400 each!” I said.
Symmetry is good for feng shui. Also, things in pairs bring good luck!—I bought a book on feng shui at the thrift store last week.
I say, “Hmmm, I do like the symmetry. That would look nice and add a lot more storage.”
I do not say, “Plus, pairs are really good feng shui.”
I said, “This would be a great engagement present!”
“I need a date and a venue.” She said.
“I’ll pay for it,” I said.
The total came to $1,264. Or something like that. For four pieces of furniture. For Space.
Amazon offered to let me pay $104 for twelve months interest-free.
I should add that line item to my budget.