Kitchen nightmares.

Grab a flashlight, we’re going exploring! For the past two weeks, Wife and I have been living at my parents’ house, until her parents have put the finishing touches on their basement remodeling project (don’t worry, I’ve been helping). Out of the frying pan and into the fire, you say? Nonsense! That idiom only works if you have a frying pan in the first place, and, for the life of me, I can’t find one in this stupid kitchen! I look away for six measly years (college and a brief jaunt in Hollyweird), and when I turn back around, this kitchen has apparently been me-proofed! And I’m not alone in this sentiment: Wife admits she can barely make her way around her own mother’s kitchen. Maybe it’s due to the fact that we’ve had a few years to develop our “system” of kitchen utensil and equipment storage, or that our parents’ mid-life crises have taken the form of rearranging their kitchens so that they are unrecognizable when their children return home for holidays, but either way, I feel like I’m on a hidden camera show trying to find a frigging spatula in here! And just look at this spice drawer! Five bottles of garlic salt and no thyme?! Are my parents vampire hunters now? Is this what they really do on their weekends away at “the Berkshires?” I swear, there was a drawer here a second ago. It’s like “Labyrinth” in this kitchen. I’m going to be reaching for the bread when all of the sudden David Bowie appears in a poof of smoke in his skin-tight unitard and tells me that “Nothing is as it seems, lad.” When I look back at the bread, it’s a head of lettuce. No, wait…now it’s snakes.