five inches west
It’s quite extraordinary, but since our kitchen table moved five inches west (this very small re-arrange kicked off the great floor scrub), it has been transformed from a “rather-in-the-way-but-we-tolerate-it-because-we-want-to-eat-in-the-kitchen-and-one-day-when-we-have-our-dream-kitchen-it-will-be-marvellous” table to a “oh-my-this-is-indeed-the-best-spot-in-the-house-to-be” table.
Just five inches! That’s all it took to bring about such a delightful change in how we use our kitchen. We’ve had Scrabble tournaments, school book covering, kindle reading, kindle cover-making, knitting, crochet, drawing, spinning, quilting, chattering – lots of chattering, and of course, eating.
Now tonight, as we await our dinner (I had it all prepared and ready to go for the teenager to come home from school and put on – today was my first evening back babysitting – but she didn’t read her text messages – HUH! the teenager didn’t read her text messages? – and so didn’t turn it on, thus now we wait), Abby and I are crocheting, Amazon-surfing, chattering, and eating so much fabulous, crumbly cheese I have no doubt we won’t want the jolly dinner by the time it’s finally ready.
Never mind. Because we moved the table five inches west we almost haven’t noticed the waiting. Almost.