Neatness counts when selling one's Gracious Home, as I'm attempting to do now. But then, so does editing. One of the precious objets in the photo above (from Fail Blog) seems out of place in the kitchen. Or not...
One memorable Christmas Eve, Darling Husband and I dined at the home of an old friend of mine in a not-too-savory stretch of San Francisco's Tenderloin. "D" is now an avid leather daddy, and items even larger than the one circled above stood sentry on various shelves about his apartment. One that was easily the size of my forearm sat maybe 6 feet from my face all through dinner.
After a while I blurted out, "Do you actually use that thing?"
"I've been known to," he replied mildly.
DH and I glanced at each other, aghast, then quickly returned to shoveling food (prepared by D's near-naked "boy") into our mouths.