PAIN IN THE RAIN

So what’s new? It’s raining again in Brookfield. My gardens have drowned. The only flowers still making an effort to bloom in the neighborhood are the black-eyed Susans, which I have, in the past, considered too “boulevard” to plant in my yard. But when it appears that that’s going to be it for color in this season, I may have to condescend to planting some of this plebeian stuff.

Tonight I was planning to make buffalo burgers for supper. Have you ever had them? Grasch’s sells buffalo, as well as ostrich and other cool stuff. Buffalo passes The Man's Red Meat Test, while being low fat. I served buffalo burgers to him without telling him what they were, so he didn’t declare them too “Funky.” He liked them, may wonders never cease. So the issue is: do I light the grill in the rain – again? The Man Who Does Nothing With Food But Eat It does not grill, in case you wondered. I think he’ll get them pan-fried tonight. I’m getting really tired of damp buns.

As for the pain referred to in the title for today’s blather, I would have said pain-relievers, but it didn’t rhyme. This kitchen packing has spread like a contagious disease through my house. First it went to emptying boxes in the basement for their usable packing space. Then I had to empty drawers and shelves in our sunroom, to make room for raisin bran and oatmeal and packages of paper plates. We will take nourishment in that room when not dining in one of Bluemound Road’s fine establishments. Today the packing contagion spread to the bathroom, in which, while kitchenless, I will attempt to rinse the coffee maker and whatever else requires water. Thus the need for a drawer for dish soap, those scrubby thingys, sponges, kitchen towels...

It is in my bathroom that the pain relievers come into the tale. The drawer I needed housed several flavors of Benadryl and Robitussin and the Alka-Seltzer Plus tablets. And then there’s the Tylenol. If simple Tylenol were the only pain reliever, packing it up and moving it would not require at fork-lift. However I have accumulated regular Tylenol, Tylenol PM, 2 bottles of Tylenol Arthritis plus a bottle of generic acetaminophen, in addition to one bottle of Bufferin, 2 of aspirin (one enteric coated), one of Advil, and 3 of Aleve. Should a headache strike you or any of your friends or family at any time, do drop right on over.

This entire over-the-counter pharmacy was rolling around among loose cough drops in the bottom drawer in my bathroom. (The Engineer Who Is Tidier Than His Spouse does not share a bathroom with me except when company arrives and takes over mine.) Fortunately, these pills, tablets, and syrups are only used sporadically here, so I decided they needn’t take up such accessible space. After a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond for containers, the entire supply is now stored in the linen closet, between the crackers and chips and the ice cream maker. Truly. That’s what’s in my linen closet. Plus eight flashlights, coffee thermoses for the car, an electric wok, my salad spinner and an entire shelf of vases. There a few pillows and a quilt or two on the top shelf, but it’s a token. At one of my daughter’s houses, one whole linen closet shelf is filled with candles. What’s in YOUR linen closet?

Almost ready to be
Kitchenless in Brookfield