I still haven't figured out how the contents of my nine-square-meter kitchen took up sixteen (16!) cardboard boxes. I took the day off today -- thank you, blessed RTT -- to attempt to put everything back. Somewhere.
I have five boxes left to unpack and a pile of cookbooks that have no logical place in their new home. I've discovered we own enough wine glasses to host a medium-sized wedding reception and that if Paris is besieged in the coming months, we can easily survive on cocktail olives and canned tomatoes.
To think I woke up this morning certain that by five o'clock today I'd not only have everything organized in the kitchen, but the entire apartment vacuumed, dusted, and ready for my dad and step-mom's visit tomorrow. Yeah, right.
Will everything fit? Will my new kitchen prove to be as functional as it is attractive? Will my husband stop complaining he can't find anything anymore? Will I drown in packing paper or be crushed under a toppled pile of cardboard?
I'll post an update soon, complete with pictures.