Each drawer has a label for content. Mixer attachments. Cookie cutters piping bags and tips. But then lots more. Lots. I couldn't stop. I know it's weird. I'm quite amused that they've taken over my kitchen, when it's quite not me. Yet I also don't really know what it says about me.
But I've noticed the labels serve as a new Rorschach in my kitchen. Labels that then let me label. Here I thought myself fairly innocent in my decision to make them.
People who love them. (Hm. A bit controling of you, no?) People who hate them. (I so get it! But what's with being so judgemental?)
People who want to love them, but can't believe they do. (Me too! So right and yet so wrong.) People who want to hate them, yet drool in lust. (You're right--I'm still trying to suppress the drool...)
People who judge me as obsessional bordering on the insane. (Point taken.) People who suddenly like me a bit better, and never thought I had it in me. (Frankly, neither did I. But I worry about it, so should you!)
The truth is it's one of the best things I've ever done in terms of having a social kitchen. People who borrow the house for a weekend know their way, friends who visit maneuver without me. And then, the selfish part, friends and family who help put away dishes do so now with astonishing accuracy.
I love this photo taken by my friend David (whose most excellent photo work can be seen here--updated daily). It accentuates yet obscures the obsessive order of the labels.