About the Stash

In my kitchen, I have tall cabinets.
They were customized.
Because they're so tall.

But I'm 5'1".
And, apparently, not that great at math.

So I keep a stash of mugs in a cabinet to the left of the refrigerator.
On a shelf low enough for me to reach.
These mugs are located across the kitchen from the "guest" vessels.
Which are placed a shelf higher and intended for use by one-time-ish guests who may come and go for a party or dinner event.

But the love mugs are special.
They're all gifts - offerings from a variety of givers living in the "I'm the cream of the human excellency crop" category - that I've hoarded away.
To be used by me and Craig...and any other treasured guest who knows that there is even such a thing as the love mugs.

Yeah, it's kind of become an urban legend at the Covak house.

Those who've heard about it (but, of course, never mentioned to me that they've heard about it) count my direction to the love mug stash after a request for coffee or tea as the ultimate symbol of "Ooo, ooo, I'm in!"

At others' homes, I know this acceptance is marked by helping clean the after-dinner dishes or the allowance of feet upon the coffee table, shoes inside the house, clothing from the closet, or coffee from the pot.

Me?

I've got the Love Mug stash.

I've been referring to it in the last few posts.
So, it occurred to me you may not know.

About the meaning of a love mug.
Or about the stash.