Things have a way of completely disappearing in my house. One minute we have ten keys, the next minute they all disappear like they’ve been “beamed up” or something (had to get the Trek reference in, for I am a geek). No matter the object, no matter how small, things come to my house to disappear and die.
We probably had eight clickers (remote controls, for those of you not good at math) at one time, but I’ll be darned if I can find them all. I am certain that at one time we owned a few sets of flatware to accommodate family gatherings. Now we buy seconds at an outlet because, dang nabbit, our set is out of production and with kids we’re just happy to have forks and spoons that haven’t yet become sandbox digging utensils or ended up mangled in the garbage disposal.
The thing that boggles my mind the most is that we have a junk drawer. You know, the drawer for “everything but the kitchen sink” category? We tend to collect things in our house. For when we find random objects and something tells us we shouldn’t just chuck them in case one of those bits is part of Swedish put-together-yourself furniture. Ahem. And then it falls apart because SOMEONE may or may not have thrown it out. Not naming names. (TOTALLY ME.)
At one time, at a previous residence, we had five junk drawers. Turns out I was just really shitty at organizing and I finally dumped everything out on the table one day, reorganized it and found stuff we hadn’t seen FOR YEARS. Thing I also found?
What’s the big deal about twist ties? Well, glad you asked. You didn’t ask? My bad. Since I’m awesome I’m going to enlighten you anyway!
The big deal about twist ties is that when you dump out five drawers worth of crap and reorganize them, you find that SOMEONE in your house has been taking EVERY SINGLE TWIST TIE off of EVERY LOAF OF BREAD and stuffing them in the drawer. For about eight years of owning the home. The kids weren’t born yet and even though my Border Collie was HELLA SMART, I’m pretty certain she hadn’t learned to open a loaf of bread. Especially when she was known to, you know, chew through the bag and eat it. Because that’s easier and she’s smart.
I’m blaming the guy I live with.
Because in those five drawers, I found… wait for it… over 180 twist ties. That’s right, I stopped counting once I reached 179 because I was doing that half-laugh-half-cry thing, digging through the pile, finding yet ANOTHER twist tie.
Now I have nightmares about them. Thanks a lot, dear.