Dickens Lives Next to My Blender

I have a confession

I keep my books in my kitchen cupboards.

I haven’t always done so, it’s just that with the renovations last summer I tossed my old bookcase when “decluttering” and haven’t found a suitable replacement since.

I’m holding out for something dignified and refined.

In the meantime my precious volumes of literature are safely stored in my kitchen cabinetry. And you know what? I didn’t have to move or toss any dishes to accommodate them. And although I’m mostly fine with this arrangement, a part of me thinks this method of storage edges slightly towards

well

“crazy old lady”.

All I need is a dozen cats.

What I’m certain it says, however, is that I don’t make cooking or entertaining a priority. I could never have more than three people over for a sit down dinner because I only have dishware enough for four. Sure I HAVE had more than three people over and have bought an appropriate enough number of paper plates…or have merely served finger food, tidbits small enough to fit on a napkin.

And I rarely cook for myself. Not that I can’t cook, I’m actually quite a good cook if I do say so myself. I’d just rather spend the time

you guessed it

reading.

And I’m not a loss when it comes to selecting a choice book from my cupboard. All the new “never been read” ones stored right beside the cereal and when I feel the need to re-read, my favourites are nestled comfortably with the Tupperware.

I think everyone should store at least one thing in their home in a particularly peculiar place. Put your tea towels in drawer of your coffee table, or you wine goblets in the refrigerator.

Just to keep life interesting.

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