“My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it’s on your plate.” ~Thornton Wilder

The kitchen, with its white 1950’s metal cabinets and kelly green formica counters and as equally out-dated gas powered refrigerator with its metal ice trays in the ice box, admittedly needed an upgrade. Desperately – although all of the appliances still worked and with the chrome stools with their matching kelly green vinyl tops pulled up along the counter did present a reassuring uniformity. The two upgrades, a low-wattage microwave (low-wattage so the breakers wouldn’t keep breaking when the extra butter popcorn started popping) and the Crate and Barrel cappuccino machine nestled in beside it, stood out like space aliens. Almost as alien, the stemless wineglass now filled almost to the brim with the perfect-temperatured merlot, sat waiting to be painted into a still-life; its deep velvety redness contrasting with the room’s firm greenness. Root-cellar to be transformed into wine-cellar, kitchen to be brought into the future. Somehow the price of staying here – cheap when offered despite the emotional cost – seemed to be rising.

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