In Miniature

I like little things. Not in a freaky way, like an old guy in a cardigan who builds tiny dollhouses with silk flower gardens and functional window blinds and lies to his social worker about it. Not like that. Just in a miniature condiments kind of way. And a travel size tube of toothpaste kind of way.

I hadn't actually considered offering room service at the inn, until I found this.

I don't stay in fancy hotels much. Camping is more my style. Even if I do splurge on a room, I hardly ever order room service. But if I did, I would ask for french fries, or scrambled eggs. With ketchup.

Then I would keep my fingers crossed that the establishment I chose is the kind of place that springs for mini ketchup bottles, instead of the type of place that serves their ketchup in a ramekin with a tiny spoon. Although they would earn a few points with the tiny spoon, the absence of a adorable little Heinz label wouldn't be easy to forgive.

And I am not the only one with an affinity for the mini. Check this place out. They have dedicated themselves specifically to the sale of items marked 'not for individual sale.' But I don't mind. It's nice to know you could spend $.34 on a single half-ounce cup of strawberry jelly, if circumstances dictated that you have exactly half an ounce of jelly and no more.

Anyway. I suppose it is my love of miniature things that led me to develop an affection for a particular piece of furniture in this house. It's in the Chittenden Room. Right now it's serving as a night stand, but at some point, in one of its former lives, it was a seamstress' side table. Small AND intricate. I love it!




Like a woodworker's heinz bottle.