Drawers

I am reminded of the time I had a new kitchen fitted and my downstairs neighbour asked if she could come and see it. Having endured all the drilling and hammering over a couple of days without complaint, it would have been churlish to deny her.

She was suitably appreciative and fortunately not very observant. Mostly obscured in the washing up bowl in the sink was an enormous dildo. She didn't spot it, much to my relief, but the incident led me to speculate as to how I might have explained it if she had.

I eventually settled on, "I've no idea what it is, I've been using it to unblock the drains. What do you use yours for?"

Which leads me with my usual clumsy inelegance to talking about the contents of my drawers (Ooh, er, missus...). There is a rumour hereabouts that I am fond of cardigans. It will come as no surprise that the drawers in and about my bedroom are used to store them. Pretty much all the drawers. The pair of pants and pair of socks that I'm not wearing is either out drying or lying on a chair; no drawers for them. The cardigans get to live in the drawers and also in the wardrobe, but the latter doesn't offer much to photograph.

Storing the cards this way means I can open a drawer and get a nice view when it suits me. This puts opening drawers up there with

   "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
      Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens"

as among my favourite things. In fact there's fuck all in that song that does anything for me. So it's cardigans as usual.

That about covers it for drawers, except perhaps to ask, what do you use yours for?