The Shrine

Okay, someone get me some help.

I keep walking into the kitchen to "pet" it. I run my hands over the counters. I open the cabinets. They're empty but I like to look at the insides and think about which cabinet should hold this or that.

I open the drawers. They're empty too except for the one holding the user's booklets for the appliances. I push the drawers shut just to see how at the last second before closing they catch and slow down and close softly. I do this over and over. I get afraid for a second that I'm going to wear out the hardware before the weekend.

I look at the shelves and think about which ones I want to use to hold my tea tins and which ones I want to use to hold plants or canisters. I go back and forth with this one. One place would make my tea tins look better but the other spot would hold more tea tins. The ability to buy and display more tea tins is a critical consideration.

I open the oven and see how it's all shiny and tidy. I haven't yet had a pie bubble over in it. I stare at the cooktop but don't touch it because I don't want fingerprints marring the shiny black glass. It's perfect now. Marinara sauce hasn't yet plopped out and fried chicken grease hasn't spritzed all over.

I marvel at how the fronts of the refrigerator and dishwasher are just like the cabinets and when they're closed you can't tell that appliances hide underneath. I peek inside the refrigerator. It's airing out and so not turned on yet and so it's all pristine white. No science projects have begun to grow in the crisper drawers and as of yet I don't have a roasting chicken that has been residing in the corner of the freezer for two years. The dishwasher does have a few dirty dishes inside but they've been thoroughy rinsed to the point that I may as well have hand washed them.

Remind me of this kitchen worship after the novelty has worn off and I'm complaining about having to scrub the grease off of everything.