Despite that fact that really, I am not a morning person, I actually do enjoy mornings. Boyfriend would disagree, but I’ve never claimed to enjoy the process of waking up or getting out of bed – shudder – however there is something intangible to be found in being the only one awake, and having your home to yourself. Presently I am drinking tea and waiting for Boyfriend to wake up.
After another frustrating hunt through the kitchen it occurs to me that Boyfriend and I ought to re-organize and reduce our possessions. The kitchen is not very big, and after knocking something over for the umpteenth time I flipped out and took a count. I found:
- 2 bread makers (same model)
- 2 slow cookers (different sizes)
- 2 toasters (one functional, one… novelty)
- 5 cutting boards (seriously?!!)
- 2 kettles (stove-top and electric)
- 3 indoor grills (various sizes)
- 3 sets of dry good canisters
- ridiculous amount of dishes, particularly mugs and glasses
- numerous duplicate utensils and implements
- pots and pans up the wazoo
- endless Tupperware
How did this happen? After the Great Tupperware Purge of August 2010 I don’t understand. Does it spawn more?
Suddenly my habit of buying a mug from new places I visit for the first time no longer seems whimsical, just poor future planning. Especially when out of all the mugs I own, the only one I use is the big green one. But say goodbye to my keepsake from Stonehenge, or the AGO, or the zoo? Never!
When we moved in together, the idea of reducing household items was loosely discussed, and I think we just went with the notion that if both people had the same thing, keep the one in best condition and donate the other.
And then the Resistance started. Neither was willing to part with our bread makers, when both were gifts from our families.
“How nice it will be to make two loaves at once!” I said. (Which we did a grand total of one time.)
“How useful it will be,” Boyfriend said, “to have my electric kettle as back up in case the stove stops working. You’d be sad without tea.”
“I can’t give up my slow cooker!” I said. “My mom gave that to me.”
“So did mine!” he said.
“My toaster actually works,” I said. “Yours has a fake hand inside it.”
“My friends gave me this! I’m not getting rid of it!” he said.
“Fine. Just don’t put it on the counter, that’s valuable kitchen real estate.”
And so it goes on. Maybe this would be a good weekend to re-watch Fight Club, and reflect on how “The things you own end up owning you.”