Like the Cat Ate the Grindstone

                                           

 Little by little, that is. I'm slowly making my way through the kitchen, taking stuff out of cabinets, making decisions, washing, recycling, tossing.

I've been at it every day, with lots of sit-down breaks. I've discovered where all the canning rings and lids go to rust. And more spices than a bazaar might have. Sake cups and Chinese soup spoons? Got 'em. Thermometer left from when I made cheese--back when we had a milk cow, and I could play with five gallons of milk at a time.

 A sippy cup. The Peter Rabbit plate that Ethan and Justin and Josie all used . . .I'm being strong and giving it to a thrift store . . .maybe.                                           

The herb and spices cabinet was a real pain to deal with.  But I threw out some that were well past their expiration date and got a great reminder of some seasonings I haven't used recently--tandoori masala, piri piri, harissa, berbere, za'atar, muchi curry powder . . .

But, oh the pleasure when things are clean and organized!

One more upper shelf to go! 

I'm writing this while I take a back break. I kinda hesitated to bore you with more of my cleaning saga, but the thing that keeps track of visitors to my posts told me that my post about Marie Kondo and Death Cleaning was incredibly popular--even more than Josie. (I won't tell her that.)
Oddly enough, this cleaning's become a bit addictive. Doing it in small, manageable bursts is the key.  Tomorrow it's onward to the lower cabinets and pots and pans. Maybe even under the sink where I suspect a swamp creature lurks.