Kitchen Cupboards

brown wooden kitchen cupboards

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on

The best way to cut the woman down to size would be to flirt with her husband but I didn’t want to do that. Two wrongs didn’t make a right. Or at least that’s how I was consoling myself.  With that thought among others and a double shot of apricot liquor.  I found the apricot liquor while rummaging around in the cupboard above the bar sink. It was probably rude to be looking through the cupboards but I was past the point of caring.

Serves me right for marrying such a handsome man, I thought to myself as I wryly observed my husband, with a woman on either side of him, both playing with their hair and laughing coquettishly at everything he said. He looked over at me and winked and I winked back before turning to go into the kitchen.  The party had reached a point where the kitchen was one of the more quiet places to be, empty except for a man rinsing his glass out at the sink.

I started opening up cupboard doors and peering at the contents, playing a little game with myself. The hostess seemed like the kind of woman who’d have 5 different flavors of artisan salt…and oh yes, there they were, at least 7 of them in the small cupboard next to the stove. I laughed out loud.

“Tell me the joke,” said the man at the sink.

“You won’t think it’s funny,” I said.

“Try me.”

“I like to guess what my hostess has in her kitchen cupboards and I guessed lots of salt and look….lots of different kinds of salt. That was funny to me.”

“Yes, I can see why you found that amusing,” said the man. “Can I play?”

“Please do,” I said.

“She looks like she might have a stash of diet soda.  I will go one step further and say that she drinks Diet Pepsi, never Diet Coke.”

I laughed. “Now there’s a serious allegation. Prove it.”

He opened up several lower cabinets, before spinning around with a flourish to show me a lower cupboard filled with 2 liter bottles of Diet Pepsi.

I whistled. “You seem to have a gift for this game,” I said. “I am not sure I can top that.”

“You have to at least try.”

I gave a dramatic sigh and then smiled. “For my grand finale, I am guessing that she has not one, not two, not three, but four wine bottle openers.”

I opened the drawer next to the sink and pulled out four wine bottle openers.

“Bravo,” the man said. “I don’t know how you did it, but hats off to you.”

“When you’re good, you’re good,” I said, and smiled to myself. When I wasn’t wearing my catering apron I had fun blending in with the guests towards the end of the party. While my handsome husband signed up flirty women for our next catering gig, I had fun my own way and none the wiser.

He stepped closer. “Let’s continue the game upstairs.  I bet I can guess what’s in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Or perhaps the bedroom nightstand?”

“Oh no,” I said, and took a step back. “I like to stick to the kitchen. Too intrusive otherwise.” I glanced out into the main room but my husband wasn’t facing my direction.

“Well, the kitchen can be fun too,” the man said.

I gave him a stern look and shook my finger at him. “That’ll be enough of that,” I said.

He flung his hands up. “wha…wha….what did I do?  I was just trying to have a fun conversation.”

“Oh and we were…such a fun conversation,” I said. “but you were getting a little out of line and I had to bring out my inner school teacher.”

“So many things to say,” he said. “But I will get into trouble if I say any of them. Damn.”

“So don’t say any of them. That’s my advice.” I smiled.

“Maybe I just need another beer.”

“Done,” I said, opening the frig to hand him a bottle.

“Thanks Miss School teacher,” he said. ‘Your husband is a lucky man.”

“Lucky AND handsome,” I said, walking out of the kitchen. “And sometimes they are the exact same thing.”

This entry was posted in writing challenge, Writing Work and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s