In this four-part series, I'm inviting you on my journey from the bedlam of everyday living to the peace of a beautiful and tranquil existence. If you are not already on this road, I hope that this would inspire ideas as you mold a space that you will love.
I had come to grips with domesticity. For the first time in a long time, my life was coming together. And it felt good.
Until that day.
I walked to the refrigerator, flung both doors open, and stood there until the hair in my nose iced up. That was when I noticed weird things growing restlessly within. Ciabatta rolls had turned blackish green. I knew from experience that there was no known blackish green food. If you saw it, it signified death.
A hundred dollars worth of half-eaten food in varying shapes and forms that didn't snap, crackle, or pop were in the pantry. A shelf below could have been a memorial to Taco Bell salsas and an assortment of condiments from fast food bags including napkins, fortune cookies with the fortune still inside, and chopsticks.
Bread ties, rubber bands, and keys that no longer opened anything were in a catch-all drawer. It was also the breeding place for writing implements which started out as single Sharpies, gel pens, and pencils. These, however, had coupled through the years and given birth to children and grandchildren which could easily constitute the entire pen population of my current home state.
I fled to my wardrobe closet for solace. I almost hurt myself, opening its door. Clothes that had magically shrunk but which I'd never donated because I just knew I was going to fit in them again one day assaulted me.
Hotel bath freebies, goodie bags from the dentist, a Plumb-Away plunger, and double-action Polident tablets (no one in the house wore dentures) were safely ensconced under the bathroom vanity.
The living room cabinet was a time capsule filled with Hubby's manuals for the microwave, car, computers, vacuums, TV, etc. I wasn't even sure if we had some of that stuff anymore. There were also cassettes, CDs and DVDs, just in case he'd want to play/watch one of them, and the Carpenters, Barbra Streisand, and Simon and Garfunkel vinyl record collection from the 70's which could be worth something someday.
I was downhearted. I thought of sending myself a note of consolation, but couldn't locate the sympathy cards that were bought last year on clearance. But I found extra Christmas photo cards from the last five years. You'd never know when we would want to see family portraits from years gone by. Even if they were saved on the computer.
I was in a crisis situation, hounded by what lurked in the shadows. What was I to do?
[To be continued]
No comments:
Post a Comment