A Kitchen Sheds It's Skin

My current sea of change can be summed up in the following statement:

Our kitchen is clean.

I mean, really clean. It is so clean the thought of leaving even the smallest of crumbs is actually painful.

This would not be that big of deal until you consider the following image:


It is apple juice that got bored sitting unused in the fridge and decided to grow itself a friend. This photo was taken about a year ago. There are more photos of food that went polychromatic, but for some reason I can not find them. Perhaps that is best; some of them are quite disturbing.

What is more disturbing is that this was indicative of the level of lazy cleanliness that my housemates and I were used to. Reports, papers, and projects would take precedence over mundane kitchen chores. As long as the kitchen was functionally clean no one seemed to have a problem.

As nice as a spotless kitchen is it is a slap of reality symbolizing vacating my first steady home within the last ten year. After a mere two years here it is back to the nomadic wanderings that I was used to.

There are other more potent symbols that should have triggered this feeling. Such as loading all of my belongings into the 5' x 8' space and still having room left over. This did not bother me. Nor has the lack of any concrete plans following graduation.

As far as I know I am heading to LA. The length of stay and what I will be doing are still unknown, but that did bother me as much as clicking on the light for a midnight coffee fix and seeing this:


(Incidentally, the coffeemaker and toaster are mine. They are the last holdouts for packing my belongings. If I had packed them that area would be even emptier.)

What used to hold a well-used spice rack, a blender that was never really used, and various packages of garlic and ginger which were more often than not forgotten is now 409 christened white counter space.

All my life the kitchen has symbolized the heart of a home. This one was no exception. I learned how to actually enjoy vegetarian meals and how to grill a steak Argentinian style on those counters. It was also my refueling station when caffeine was the only solution to getting more done than time and the need for sleep would allow. It also served as the common area of the house, the one spot where conversation flowed among the smell of curry, pepper, butter, rosemary, and coffee.

Now, there is nothing wrong with a clean kitchen, but right now it feels sterile. In a way this makes sense, the last of the old housemates are on their way out and this is the prep for the new folks. The downside is that this sterility has also removed the kitchen's heart in the process. I just happen to be around to see it.