After two years it’s time for another good purge of my kitchen’s cupboards, drawers, nooks and crannies. It’s a fascinating, irritating task, but the room and I are certainly the better for it.
Here’s how the latest giveaway/putaway scenario unfolded.
I spread two Ace Hardware tarps on the floor. Then I emptied everything in the kitchen onto one of them. This took some time, but I’d checked out a story tape from the library to keep me entertained. After the cupboards were bare I dragged out my new shop vac and hoovered every emptied drawer and shelf before wiping each one clean.
An enormous pile confronted me. How much was really necessary? This would be an- ‘Out, damn’d stuff- ‘Tis time to do ’t…’ day, to tweak the words of Lady Macbeth.
I studied the heap- pans, lids, toaster, plastic food containers, orphaned lids, dishes, chipped and intact mugs. The cluttered contents of my ‘junky’ drawer (rubber bands, broken pencils, scotch tape, batteries, little calculators, screws, nails) begged for weeding. I pondered nice, but rarely used, ironed and folded tablecloths…OK. Time for ‘whatifers.’ What if I’d need this or that for our larger family gatherings? Well, I’d put those ‘might want’ things in a medium-sized plastic container, list the contents, tape the list to the lid, then store it in the basement. A ten-inch high pile of interesting placemats I’d bought at garage sales had brightened the kitchen at various times over the years, but I kept just four sets. The rest were bagged for Good Will.
Tarp #2 would host essential things. I plunked down the toaster, teakettle, coffee pot, utensils, favorite pots and pans, dishes- and just eight mugs I’d never tire of.
Oh, but that froggy one beckoned. But no. I hadn’t used it in ages. Well, what would my children do with that frog-in-the-mug? (This standard question helps me make ‘D-Day’ decisions.) “For heaven’s sake,” they’d mutter- “let someone new chuckle over it.”
It stayed on tarp #1.
Next, the floor-to-ceiling pantry cupboards were emptied. Tins of soup, sardines and oysters were pushed against the wall, to be restacked later. I cast out elderly flour, stale crackers, expired cans of pumpkin, etc. A big pile of mending, vases, receipts, scented candles, and the like, were sorted. Ancient mending was examined, and put into a do-it-this-week plastic sack. Unimportant receipts from this past year were tossed.
Bryn, watching all this activity with great interest, wanted to help. While I was on my knees crawling well into the pantry’s nether regions to find and drag out items that hadn’t seen daylight in ages, she quietly, delicately nipped off every wrapper from the seven floored oyster and sardine tins. It was a thorough job. In future, Joe and I, faced with blank tins, would have no idea what saltwater creature might rest on our crackers until we peeled back the lid. Oh, well…
Next, she quietly picked up a slim, half-full plastic sugar container with one end open for pouring out measured amounts- and trotted off to her nest to inspect/chew it. A substantial stream of sugar granules poured out of the business end, leaving a clear trail.
She’d no sooner settled than I emerged from cupboard depths to make a cup of tea. My shoes crunched on the sugar, exposing her mischief. I admit to some gnashing of teeth; what a mess! The shop vacuum roared to life.
Fifteen minutes later all was spic n’ span.
Tarp #1, heaped with lots of giveaway goodies, were packed into bags and boxes and trundled out to the car.
I put away what had survived, washed the interior windows, mopped the floor, then looked around. There was a ton of room in the drawers and on shelves. The kitchen felt huge and airy. It had certainly lost weight.
“Lets celebrate with a dog biscuit and a smidgen of tawny port,” I said with a grin to Bryn.
“Here’s to eliminations: May they be regular and thorough!”
Here’s how the latest giveaway/putaway scenario unfolded.
I spread two Ace Hardware tarps on the floor. Then I emptied everything in the kitchen onto one of them. This took some time, but I’d checked out a story tape from the library to keep me entertained. After the cupboards were bare I dragged out my new shop vac and hoovered every emptied drawer and shelf before wiping each one clean.
An enormous pile confronted me. How much was really necessary? This would be an- ‘Out, damn’d stuff- ‘Tis time to do ’t…’ day, to tweak the words of Lady Macbeth.
I studied the heap- pans, lids, toaster, plastic food containers, orphaned lids, dishes, chipped and intact mugs. The cluttered contents of my ‘junky’ drawer (rubber bands, broken pencils, scotch tape, batteries, little calculators, screws, nails) begged for weeding. I pondered nice, but rarely used, ironed and folded tablecloths…OK. Time for ‘whatifers.’ What if I’d need this or that for our larger family gatherings? Well, I’d put those ‘might want’ things in a medium-sized plastic container, list the contents, tape the list to the lid, then store it in the basement. A ten-inch high pile of interesting placemats I’d bought at garage sales had brightened the kitchen at various times over the years, but I kept just four sets. The rest were bagged for Good Will.
Tarp #2 would host essential things. I plunked down the toaster, teakettle, coffee pot, utensils, favorite pots and pans, dishes- and just eight mugs I’d never tire of.
Oh, but that froggy one beckoned. But no. I hadn’t used it in ages. Well, what would my children do with that frog-in-the-mug? (This standard question helps me make ‘D-Day’ decisions.) “For heaven’s sake,” they’d mutter- “let someone new chuckle over it.”
It stayed on tarp #1.
Next, the floor-to-ceiling pantry cupboards were emptied. Tins of soup, sardines and oysters were pushed against the wall, to be restacked later. I cast out elderly flour, stale crackers, expired cans of pumpkin, etc. A big pile of mending, vases, receipts, scented candles, and the like, were sorted. Ancient mending was examined, and put into a do-it-this-week plastic sack. Unimportant receipts from this past year were tossed.
Bryn, watching all this activity with great interest, wanted to help. While I was on my knees crawling well into the pantry’s nether regions to find and drag out items that hadn’t seen daylight in ages, she quietly, delicately nipped off every wrapper from the seven floored oyster and sardine tins. It was a thorough job. In future, Joe and I, faced with blank tins, would have no idea what saltwater creature might rest on our crackers until we peeled back the lid. Oh, well…
Next, she quietly picked up a slim, half-full plastic sugar container with one end open for pouring out measured amounts- and trotted off to her nest to inspect/chew it. A substantial stream of sugar granules poured out of the business end, leaving a clear trail.
She’d no sooner settled than I emerged from cupboard depths to make a cup of tea. My shoes crunched on the sugar, exposing her mischief. I admit to some gnashing of teeth; what a mess! The shop vacuum roared to life.
Fifteen minutes later all was spic n’ span.
Tarp #1, heaped with lots of giveaway goodies, were packed into bags and boxes and trundled out to the car.
I put away what had survived, washed the interior windows, mopped the floor, then looked around. There was a ton of room in the drawers and on shelves. The kitchen felt huge and airy. It had certainly lost weight.
“Lets celebrate with a dog biscuit and a smidgen of tawny port,” I said with a grin to Bryn.
“Here’s to eliminations: May they be regular and thorough!”