Tupperware

The plastic containers are in the left bottom drawer of our kitchen's center island. It's a deep drawer, perfect for Tupperware but inconveniently located. Every time you want to put away that last dab of floor cake, you have to crouch down and scrabble through the drawer in search of the perfect vessel, exactly the right size, with a matching lid that seals with a pleasing pff.

I arranged the kitchen three years ago while Paul was away one weekend, according to how I imagined we'd use it, putting cooking utensils in the drawers nearest the stove, for example, knives and peelers in the island, cutting boards directly below. I got a little crazy with the P-Touch. If our home is ever burgled, the intruders will know exactly where to find PAPER/PLASTIC GOODS, FLATWARE, THINGS THAT ARE SHARP, and SNACKS OF ALL NATIONS. (If they slice off a fingertip while rummaging through the knife drawer, they can creep upstairs and rifle through the medicine cabinet — perhaps they will be interested in SKIN INJURY. If their spree through the kitchen gives them indigestion, they will find the antacids filed under ONE SPICY MEATBALL. Diarrhea? UNMENTIONABLES.)

But back to the Tupperware drawer. I know full well why I located it there, bending the last three years. When I'd visited a friend and watched her squat low to get containers out, I'd seen her toddler stumble-race across the room to plunge his hands into the drawer. "I did that on purpose," she said, as her son pulled out tall square after tall square. "He can't break anything in there, and it keeps him busy while I work."

We choose the house with the extra bedrooms, thinking we'll fill them soon. We buy a single outfit, yellow or green, fuzzy, with feet. We rehearse how we'll tell our husbands the news, starting the first month we try. We store the Tupperware low.

Yeah, we start early. Some of us way too early.

Posted by Julie at 09:43:47 AM in I've learned a lot...but I'm not sure it's worth it.

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Tupperware

The plastic containers are in the left bottom drawer of our kitchen's center island. It's a deep drawer, perfect for Tupperware but inconveniently located. Every time you want to put away that last dab of floor cake, you have to crouch down and scrabble through the drawer in search of the perfect vessel, exactly the right size, with a matching lid that seals with a pleasing pff.

I arranged the kitchen three years ago while Paul was away one weekend, according to how I imagined we'd use it, putting cooking utensils in the drawers nearest the stove, for example, knives and peelers in the island, cutting boards directly below. I got a little crazy with the P-Touch. If our home is ever burgled, the intruders will know exactly where to find PAPER/PLASTIC GOODS, FLATWARE, THINGS THAT ARE SHARP, and SNACKS OF ALL NATIONS. (If they slice off a fingertip while rummaging through the knife drawer, they can creep upstairs and rifle through the medicine cabinet — perhaps they will be interested in SKIN INJURY. If their spree through the kitchen gives them indigestion, they will find the antacids filed under ONE SPICY MEATBALL. Diarrhea? UNMENTIONABLES.)

But back to the Tupperware drawer. I know full well why I located it there, bending the last three years. When I'd visited a friend and watched her squat low to get containers out, I'd seen her toddler stumble-race across the room to plunge his hands into the drawer. "I did that on purpose," she said, as her son pulled out tall square after tall square. "He can't break anything in there, and it keeps him busy while I work."

We choose the house with the extra bedrooms, thinking we'll fill them soon. We buy a single outfit, yellow or green, fuzzy, with feet. We rehearse how we'll tell our husbands the news, starting the first month we try. We store the Tupperware low.

Yeah, we start early. Some of us way too early.