We rent a small, older, craftsman style home. Like most older homes, our house has its charms and quirks. Okay, more quirks than charms. Most of them are pretty standard: squeaky floors, drafty rooms, lack of a dishwasher. A few are a bit less common: a random four-inch downward slope between the kitchen and the dining nook. The part of the ceiling in the living room that juts down two inches lower than the rest.
Then there is the matter of the Black Hole in the kitchen. Yes, Black Hole, as in the space anomaly that sucks in anything and everything, never to be seen again.
“A black hole is a region of spacetime from which gravity prevents anything, including light from escaping. […] Around a black hole, there is a mathematically defined surface called an event horizon that marks the point of no return.”
Our personal black hole can be found in our kitchen, twixt the oven and the cupboards.
At first, this may seem to be merely an unfortunate amount of extra space between the small oven and counter. Oh no. Let me assure you, it is much more than that. Zach and I have both witnessed – on multiple occasions – various organic and non-organic items leaping into this abyss. As if propelled by an incredibly strong force. There is clearly something much stronger than your average pull of gravity at work here. Either all the food and utensils in our kitchen have formed a suicide pact (not going to rule that one out, given my cooking abilities and tendency to “learn how” from YouTube) or we have a black hole in our kitchen. I’ll let you decide which is more likely. Just know that it has moved on from merely food and utensils and is now trying to devour larger metal objects such as the Whirly Pop. Just saying.