Welcome to my kitchen. Please come in, don't be shy. Before I elaborate on what you're seeing, just a quick explanation: I wanted to give an honest, of-the-moment snapshot of my kitchen. What that means is I didn't clean or touch a single thing before taking these photos.
So, the backstory here is that my girlfriend, Kate, and I did what is perhaps the most grown-up thing we've ever done. No, we didn't get married, but you already guessed that because I didn't call her my wife (mental note: gotta get on that). And nope, no babies here either. What we did was buy an apartment.
And what I've discovered as a brand new homeowner is that all sorts of things that are totally acceptable as a renter no longer seem as acceptable when the place is my own. And right at the top of that list is just about everything in this kitchen—because I don't like it very much. I mean, it's fine, it really is, but boy, am I salivating at the thought of ripping it all out and starting from scratch. We'll do that eventually, but for now, this is where I cook.
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