At long last

We moved into out teeny, tiny rental yesterday.

Boy are we spoiled brats, with our sturdy furniture and thick plaster walls, not to mention SPACE.

The kids both commented something to the effect of
"do people really live in tiny flimsy houses like this?"

Yes, my darlings, yes they do.

So we are firmly ensconsed in a little crackerbox of a house south of Powell. The dogs stashed at much classier addresses, the cat roughing it out at home, with all the crashing and banging.

Ben ripped out the cabinets today, had a hell of a time doing it too, they were solid pine, build in place and required a good deal of sledgehammering to remove.

Behind the backsplash we discovered some charming 1930's decals, of girls with fruits and vegetables.  I wish I could save them, but they are no doubt glued on with aebestos glue and god only knows what else that is liable to kill me.

This evening, after a particularly trying and tiresome day at work and kid picking up, I attempted to prepare dinner in the tiny kitchen, and discovered that there was not a single serving bowl.

The night before I was vexed by the carpeted entry.

Yes, the owner, that requested no shoes on in the house, had installed white carpet, cheapass white carpet right up to the threshold, with nary a bench or chair to sit and remove your shoes.

Mark made quite a sight, hopping around on one foot, on the tiny welcome mat, eventually lobbing his sneakers to me, across the small living-room for stashing in the closet.  Maxwell was pulled into the room, by the lapels, me firmly placing him on a brown paper bag, to remove his giant size 11 Docs, without toppling over.

The lack of a salad bowl pushed me right over the edge to that place where I either yell or write something, so I opted to write a frank, but heartfelt e-mail full of useful feedback to the owner of the cottage.

Dear Friend, dear, dear, earnest, Volkswagon driving hippie kid, with the sweet baby in the paisley sling~

1. If you want people to take off their shoes, provide an entry space, free of carpet,  in the absence of that, a bench or a chair, and a rack to stow the shoes, neatly.
2. If you advertise your home as having "everything you need", then provide a measuring cup, a small serving bowl, more than three plates.
3. If you want your beautiful stainless steel cooktop to remain beautiful, provide a lid to the frying pan, to prevent grease build up.
4. Speaking of frying pans, if yours happens to be teflon, don't provide a metal pancake turner, that friend is a big NO, NO! 
5. While I am giving good advice, a hook for one's used bath towel would be delightful, and cut down on the eventuality that your shower curtain rod will fall over under the weight of four wet towel.  Unless you think running the washer daily is a good use of resources. 
6. While we are on resources, you might consider a dish drainer, unless, again, we are to run the dishwasher each time the three plates get soiled (the fourth member of our family is just shit out of luck, she or he can just eat off a corner of a cereal box).