NEVER ENUF SPACE!

Jer and I got into a funny discussion the other night as to whether we sidled or slithered around in our tiny apartment. There was some minor disagreement as to which was closer to what we have to do but no disagreement at all that both of them are appropriate.

The problem is that we have 1000 square feet of furniture and a 750 square foot apartment to put it in. And we've gotten rid of the big stuff! So you can see that we have to do some fancy footwork to get from here to there.

We have a one-person-wide kitchen. It is a much better kitchen than the one we had in our larger Loma Linda apartment, so I have to keep this in mind whenever I say "bad" things about this kitchen. It's a galley kitchen, so we can work side to side quite easily. We just can't change places easily. Only the cat can walk past us. For Jer and me, the mode is either to slither or to sidle.

We gave away our beautiful big dining room set with 8 chairs and china cabinet, and replaced it with a small wooden round table and 4 chairs. We have a little dining area at the juncture of our kitchen and living room, but again, even that tiny set is too big for that area. Whoever gets up from the table has to either sidle or slither into the kitchen because one of the chairs, when occupied, blocks the ingress.

Our "master" bedroom would not be quite so tight if we didn't have Jerry's desk and file cabinet in it. But as this was the only room that could hold it, there it sits, and it too causes a lot of fancy footwork to happen. To get to my bed I walk through the bedroom door, turn sideways to pass between the foot of Jerry's bed and the double-dresser and then make a sharp right hand turn to reach it. To open the drawers, we have to stand to the outside of the drawers and pull them out in front of us into the narrow little passageway at the end of our beds. If one of us is rummaging in a drawer for something, the other one either has to bide his or her time or else crawl over Jerry's bed if it is imperative to get to the window quickly. (As an aside, Jerry never has to rummage in a drawer. His are so neat he doesn't know what the word "rummage" means. I am the rummager).

I wrote a poem once about that very subject. It's called Honesty.

I place my books back on the shelf
instead of let them rest
upon the couch or table where
I think they suit me best.

My clothes get put on hangers,
not just tossed upon a chair
or dropped upon the closet floor
and then left lying there.

I promptly do the dishes so my
drainboards always shine.
In opening cupboards high or low
you'll find no mess in mine.

My house is always spotless
so it satisfies my mate,
but don't be fooled: this tidiness
is not my natural state.

You'll only see my image in
my waxed and polished floors.
The real me is hidden in
my messy dresser drawers.