Careful as you come in through my front door in case you trip on one of the 37 shoes lying on the mat. Mind out, as you continue in, not to stub your toe on a skateboard, or a pile of stuff waiting to go either upstairs or downstairs. Good luck finding a space on the counter or a table to rest those bags of shopping.
Yes, it may look like we got ransacked while we were out, but you know what … it’s a system, albeit a somewhat flawed one.
It’s all based on the premise that if something is worth putting away it’s worth putting away right. I have all these neatly organized cupboards where everything is sorted and categorized; stacked according to size and function, while the visible parts of my house look like an official disaster site. Well, I did say it was flawed.
So, why, when it is so obvious what goes where in my cupboards, is it so hard to find the marmite? It seems obvious to me that it goes in the little green, plastic basket with all the other jams and spreads. Not near the cereal, not with the baking supplies and most certainly not in the fridge. As a displaced Brit living in Canada, I have to bring those giant jars of marmite back from England, rather than buying it in a nice sensible size. Keeping it from going rubbery is a constant challenge, and the fridge is the enemy of marmite.
But I digress (marmite and tinned custard are very emotional subjects for me). Oftentimes, when my husband tries to crawl into a bed piled high with stacks of neatly folded laundry (very neatly, I may say – have you ever seen Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory fold laundry? Same principle), he clears his side of the bed by removing the offending collection to the floor, mixing up shorts with shirts and combining carefully personalized piles.
Why, (I ask), don’t you just put the clothes on the shelves rather than the floor. Because, (he says), he doesn’t know where it all goes. Really? Seriously? I think it’s fairly simple that the shirts go on that part of the shelf where all those shirts are piled up. The shorts, right where those other shorts are. Are you starting to see a pattern here?
Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know that I did eventually track the marmite down near the pasta, and I have now had my toast, so life is good again.