Last night Tom brought home the last few missing kitchen-cupboard shelves, so this morning I had the fun of arranging and rearranging and rearranging again. What is amazing is that there is actually extra space in some of these cupboards. I don't have to crush all of the plates and pans and wineglasses together into a dark-cornered jigsaw puzzle. Instead, each faction rests airily on its own bright plank, and almost everything is easy to see and to reach.

To have a kitchen that makes sense: this is such a luxury.

Yesterday turned out to be a mess, weather-wise, and this morning everything is slathered with ice and slush. Fortunately there will be lots of sunshine and, later, chicken curry and possibly even some homemade naan--if I can figure out how to roll out the dough without having to depend on our less-than-hygienic temporary countertop.

I also need to find a novel to read . . . perhaps something by an author whose last name begins with T, U, or W.