Charmed Domesticity

An idyll.
  September 9, 2003

My hands smell like garlic.  This is because I’ve been making salmon to feed Lanie when she wakes up, and the recipe calls for crushed garlic but we don’t have a garlic crusher in the house, so I had to chop it up by hand.  We have many other things in the house: a cheese grater, a coffee maker, a collection of glasses with Garfield the cat on them, a martini mixer, even a bagel guillotine (I have executed scores of bagels.  I am a bagel butcher, up to my elbows in—bread crumbs?!).  But no garlic crusher anywhere: not in the cabinets, not under the sink in the bathroom, not in Lanie’s lingerie drawer; and bagels are a poor substitute for garlic, even when crushed.

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