It's official: I hate my kitchen.
What began as an iffy living situation -- six months, max -- has turned into our longest lease on a rental residence yet since Scott and I began dating back in 1867, I mean, 2003.
February 12 marked one year in this special little apartment and lately - this winter and most recently -- I cannot bear to be in a tiny ass kitchen. Thus, no excellent posts on here about what we had for dinner. Guess what we had tonight? Mediocre mushroom/spinach quesadillas. They were so dull you should pronounce them just like Napoleon's grandma:
Sad, sad, sad.
I don't need to have a dream kitchen (y'all know how I feel about stainless steel appliances)- but here are two things that are essential: counter space and ventilation. And when I say ventilation, I really mean blessed air conditioning. I'm already starting to panic that we'll still be here this summer and I don't think I can sweat through another season in this f@*%$*# "kitchen.
OK. Serenity now, por favor.