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Coffee and Toast
Jan. 21st, 2010 05:22 pmI've been home alone most of the day, reading Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit. Oli needed someone to be in because he's expecting some van parts, and I don't really mind. I've been in my pyjamas all day, because why not?, though I put some jeans over them to feel less frumpy. It doesn't really work.
Sitting in the mostly-quiet of the kitchen, I've started to think of this room as some kind of organism. I'm inside the head, originally a breakfast nook that now serves as a sort of living room, stuffed with couches and home to the stereo and outlets for laptops. The clock ticks with a quiet lub-dub, and the homebrew on top of the fridge bubbles intermittently, like a happy, rumbling belly. The fridge itself is esophagal, full of temporary foods, while the cabinets stretch out along both long walls with their arms full of crockery and dry goods. Liquid waste goes down the sink, which also cleans things; dual purpose like human anatomy. Solid waste accumulates in the opposite corner and is occasionally removed all at once. A different structure to the human anatomy, then, though we still wash our hands afterwards.
The kitchen has no legs, though. We are its legs.
Sitting in the mostly-quiet of the kitchen, I've started to think of this room as some kind of organism. I'm inside the head, originally a breakfast nook that now serves as a sort of living room, stuffed with couches and home to the stereo and outlets for laptops. The clock ticks with a quiet lub-dub, and the homebrew on top of the fridge bubbles intermittently, like a happy, rumbling belly. The fridge itself is esophagal, full of temporary foods, while the cabinets stretch out along both long walls with their arms full of crockery and dry goods. Liquid waste goes down the sink, which also cleans things; dual purpose like human anatomy. Solid waste accumulates in the opposite corner and is occasionally removed all at once. A different structure to the human anatomy, then, though we still wash our hands afterwards.
The kitchen has no legs, though. We are its legs.
