Thursday, January 6, 2011

Round hole, round peg

I blame my mother. It’s not unusual – many people blame their mothers for all sorts of reasons, justifiable and otherwise. I blame my mother for my need to have things neatly organized in the kitchen. It’s not her fault really; in kindergarten a child is told to fit the round pegs to the round holes. Stacking plates, bowls, pots and pans and organizing the silverware is the same concept. Largest to smallest, like objects together. It may be impossible to organize your Tupperware, no matter how many racks the pieces come with, but the same cannot be said of flatware.

Similarly, when our family purchased a dishwasher the task of loading and unloading was shared by everyone. My mom would go to empty or start the dishwasher and ask, “Who loaded the dishwasher this way? This is ridiculous.” Therein lies the root of my desire to fit, puzzle piece-like, as many dishes as possible into the dishwasher. It’s not just the quantity that drives me: it’s so pointless to have dishes left out when a moment of thought will ensure that everything fits. In the office, I am constantly rearranging cups and bowls to correct for other people’s careless habits.

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