A Matter of Measure

I had no intention of lingering by the drying rack all afternoon, so I navigated across the butcher block toward the spice rack. Resting haphazardly beside a jar of whole cloves was a small, polished brass measuring spoon, knocked onto its curved bowl and rocking with every vibration of the refrigerator. Such careless placement in a functional workspace is entirely unacceptable. Grounding the staff of my oversized brush firmly against a ceramic crock for balance, I stepped close and caught the slender metal handle with both hands. With steady, measured leverage, I flipped it right side up and nudged its rim flush against the oak tier. Now it sits poised, catching the midday glare with proper dignity.