Its All About Me. I Need To Remember That

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Its All About Me. I Need To Remember That.
Sitting at my kitchen table eating breakfast is an exercise in design that doesn’t work. Not for me anyway. Worse yet, its my own fault. I designed it.

In my tiny kitchen, I had this idea that I could add an island, and that it could have fold-down sides to expand it for multiple people. No problem so far, right?

My previous place had a beloved round pine table that I had built. The new place is just too small to have a table and chairs in the room full-time, so the island lifts off its 6 inch base and folds out to become a round-ish 30 inch high table when guests are here and I have folding chairs stuffed in the closet to accommodate that use.

The problem is that the fold-down parts knock into my knees, the tile ends between the front and back legs- slightly different floor heights- and the stool I use is always in the way when I cook. The folding chairs come crashing down whenever I access the closet and worst of all I HAVE NO GUESTS. Ever. Nobody but me has crossed the threshold since I took possession of the place. Oh, and my oven doesn’t work

I know better than this, in my head anyway. But I just can’t help having this wistful desire to have people visiting and fawning endlessly about how superlative my taste is. Everywhere one’s eye falls, some object’s thoughtful placement will merit praise and thereby validate my talent. At this point my bruised shins and skinned knuckles won’t matter so much. Ah, validation.



Reality check. I live alone. I like solitude . I like my style. My design can uniquely accommodate my needs. That’s why I do it. I’m not one who yearns for holiday gatherings or theme parties. The word “entertaining” in media always makes me cringe.



Its time to start serving the client again. The guy who pays the rent. The guy who eats 3 meals a day- alone, needs to get stuff in the closet without getting clobbered by falling chairs, the guy whose shins could use a break so the bruises can heal. Nobody’s coming to dinner anyway. Time to make this place about me.  

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