Someone's in the Kitchen

 

Everyone who knows me knows how much I hate to cook. Everyone who has been in my house while I'm cooking knows they better stay in another room. This is a bit of a problem for those who think kitchens are places to chat, but usually Jerry is around to steer guests clear of my kitchen-wrath.

Ryanne, who has spent a good part of her ten years near my kitchen, has turned it into a game. Although I consider all the territory that has blue linoleum as part of the kitchen, she likes to negotiate.

Playing a game reminiscent of 'I'm not touching you' she asks: Are you going to use the oven? Then why can't I stand here? Or, I'm not in the kitchen, I'm by the computer.

Eventually she wears me down, finds the exact distance I'm willing to tolerate, and lays down on the floor forming a border with her body just inside the line I told her not to cross. Sometimes when she's feeling especially invulnerable she sits back to the cupboard, feet on the fridge, and tells me that if I need something she'll open the door for me.

My only recourse is to teach her how to cook. Since I hate cooking, and am not very good at it, this might not be the best idea that I've ever come up with. It would also mean being in the kitchen with another person. I don't know if I could take it.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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