So back to the food attic. It was icky and dingy. There were multicolored stains that resisted watered bleach and soap, and the whole thing was an unfortunate smoggy yellow. So I crawled inside and painted it a glossy white, all the while craning my neck to one side and then the other, and huddling over like Quasimodo. You know those warnings on the paint cans that say use in a well ventilated area? I think I killed off a few brain cells in my first bout with the food attic, perhaps why I got it in my head that it would be a good idea if I wrote a book called The Children of the Cupboard (see above). But I got out and then climbed back in, andthen got out and got back in and brought the box fan onto the ledge that you stand on. This allowed me to breathe a bit easier, but it was even more difficult to maneuver and I still got a headache (and I probably lost a few IQ points). I think I'm just going to try various configurations of pantry organization as we bring over our belongings one van-ful at a time.