And then there was space. Glorious, glorious space.

The kitchen in my house was designed by a non-cook.  There is limited counter space so I've devised work arounds.  The only suitable drawer for flatware is directly under the cutting board, an object in near constant use because all it takes is a quick pull, and voila, there is a clean and flat surface for chopping, or unloading grocery bags, or cooling a dish just out of the oven.  Flatware is also essential - so I filled a small crock with knives, forks, and spoons for easy access.  That created one more item sitting on the counter...

An attempt to inventory my canned goods, (tomatoes on a shelf in the laundry room, more tomatoes in a sturdy box on the floor, jams and relishes and vinegars stashed willy-nilly,) got me thinking about my much loved pantry in an earlier house, which segued into thoughts of building narrow cabinets in the breakfast nook.  I measured and pondered number of shelves, consulted my friend with a cabinet shop for custom door possibilities.  I allowed myself a three-day window of time although my track record for practically anything takes 1.5 times longer than anticipated.  I researched standard lumber sizes and began sketching the finished product. Too many decisions.

Then a flash of inspiration.  Ikea!  I browsed their website and found an ideally sized book shelf, doors optional, of the perfect 11" depth for my quite small breakfast area.  So I made an Ikea run.  That took one day.  Ripping out a decidedly ugly corner shelf for the microwave, followed by repairing the walls (Silicone? Was that really necessary with the excessive number of screws bolting that baby into place) took a half day.  The cabinets went together fairly quickly.  Had to laugh though as the installation manual was totally illustrations, (which is quite brilliant considering their worldwide market,)  and did have to redo a couple things.  Not too far into the project, however.

All in all, it took five days.  I got a sideboard too.  So now there is so much storage I can hardly figure out what goes where.  Moose always has to get in the shot.  Speaking of him, I've been babying along some French melons in the garden - a smallish cantaloupe - I spotted him walking my way with something in his mouth.  A French melon. Well, there you go.  It must be ripe.  I had it for dinner tonight.  With teeth marks and all.
The other two doors are now installed.  Had to shim - this is an old house.

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