We have a kitchen closet with shelves on one side. As the realtor explained it, this is a pantry and it is where we store most of the food. With the consistency of the waning sun I forget what we have in there and inevitably buy more of everything.
Currently the pantry holds:
Jars of mayonnaise (quart sized) - 3
28oz cans of diced tomatoes - 13
Bottles of oyster sauce - 2
Jars of Dijon mustard - 6
Boxes of Plantation Mint tea - 17
Gallon jugs of prune juice - 4
Cans of cat food - 87
Bags of brown sugar ...
Well, you see, here's the story with the brown sugar.
Our realtor would unfailingly tell us what each room was as we looked at it. "BATHroom," he would enthuse and Steve and I would nod like sheep. Like sheep who nod.
What he should have said when we craned our three heads into this pantry is, "Pantry. Pantry on crack" because, seriously, muffins, this little room is all fucked up. Amongst other peculiarities it has a window with a really nice view. Why? It also has a door that, when opened, completely blocks two-thirds of the shelves. The opposite wall is empty- no shelves, just a clean blank space. The wall that the door slams into, though? That's where the glass jars go.
In order to get anything from this pantry it is necessary to shut the door behind you. This enables a person to visually establish that there are three enormous containers of mayonnaise in stock before trotting off to buy another. It also prevents a second person, let's call this one Steve, from realizing that the pantry is already occupied before entering.
Today I was rummaging around in there before heading off to the grocery store. I was considering making chocolate chip cookies tonight and wanted to know whether we were adequately supplied to do so. I keep all the baking stuff in a bottom basket. Big baskets, by the way, make no sense in a pantry. It is possible to just bend over and poke around in the basket, but it is easier to sit on the floor and do it. And I always do whatever is easiest. So I was sitting on the floor, hefting a bag of brown sugar in my hand and trying to decide whether it had a cup and a half left in it. Well, a cup and a half and a little bit left over for me. I decided it did. I figured I might as well just open the bag and pinch out a mouthful or two while I was there.
You can see, can't you, that this is why I was sitting on the pantry floor with the door shut, eating brown sugar with my hands when Steve came in? Perfectly normal series of events, right?
So what was with the stricken glance before backing slowly away and shutting the door behind him? Who was he expecting in our pantry? Lorne Green?