Last night as I was fixing a Panini for dinner, I started planning my perfect kitchen. Things I would just have to have. First was a built in Panini maker hidden away, but always plugged in, ready to roll. None of this "butt in the air on my hands and knees stuff", trying to find it and then hauling it up to plug in. Nooooo. Ditto a large coffee maker for weekends (also hidden and built in) but I still want my Cuisinart Keurig for every day. Hey...this is my kitchen--fix your own. Drawers need to pull out for me to reach my pots and pans. Awww, hell...EVERYTHING needs to pull out, a la' drawer. I want an organized knife drawer with those wooden do-hickeys that hold your knives upright, so they don't flop over and I want separate drawers for different sets of flatware, all neat and organized like Martha's. In fact, let's just cut to the chase. I'll take her gray kitchen right now. And I want all her stuff that's in it, too. All ready to roll and her appliances, too. Hey, this is pretend so I can do that.
Or maybe this one.
And as long as we're pretending, I want the rest of my house all org-ed (organized) like hers, too. All my sheets ironed and spritzed with lavender or lilac water, with my shelves all lined in that beautiful shelf liner paper that smells like heaven on Earth. And my closet. My clothes would all be separated by season and only this season's clothes would be visible. Of course, they'd be organized by color, hung on oh, sooo perfect hangers all facing the same direction, and Sis could even have a bed in there, so she could rest, while I shilly-shallied around acting like Lady Astor. I might even have a chaise, too, so we could read together in there. And a built in refrigerator in case we got thirsty, or needed tea or coffee. Dang. What do I need a kitchen for? I may never come out of my closet.