First, allow me to explain our pantry: it's not really a pantry. It's a breezeway. There's the back door, and then there's the outside back door, and between, there's a closet-ish space that we put leftover IKEA shelves into and christened the walk-in pantry (and, during winter months, a walk-in cooler.) It suits us fine, because while our kitchen isn't small, it's not blessed with much cabinet space. Plus, we're Costco shoppers, and in Chicago, thirty-six rolls of TP can't be stored in the garage because then we'd be wiping our asses with newspaper or each others' pillowcases rather than trudging out in the snow to the carhole.
Now, as I mentioned, it's cold as balls back there, so I worked only my fifteen-minute minimum because my bare feet were freezing. Why not put on shoes, you say? Screw you, I do what I want. I'm going to say it's also because I need some time to think about what really belongs back there. Like the gallon of deck wash on the floor. Isn't that more of a garage thing? Then again, the pantry is closer to the deck than the garage is. Really, I need to watch an episode of 24 before I can make that decision with a clear head.