Housebound for a year? I can deal with it. Harry and Meghan feuding with the royal family? I can deal with it. Car overheating in the middle of nowhere? I can deal with it. Cats upchucking on the carpet just after I steam-cleaned it? I can deal with it.
Finding a quarter-inch screw on the floor that I know belongs to something important, but not knowing where to put it so I could find when I need it. Stress level? Hits the summit of Mt. Everest. Small electronic gadgets and whizbangs rattling around in my desk drawer: my brain freezes, and I sit like a block of ice for an hour trying to figure out where to store them because I WILL need them someday. Stress level? out of the stratosphere.
It don’t sleep well; my dreams reflect my anxiety There so many daily little things in life. But that was then.
Now I am calm. I am serene. I have my little tin boxes. They are about 4 inches long with hinged lids that snap shut firmly. They came twenty in a pack and cost around $20 and they are just the right size to hold multitudes of little things.
Unidentified small parts that are important to something? Put it the tin box labeled “What is This For.”
Tiny screwdrivers to fix Christmas gadgets? Put in the box labeled “Tiny Tools.”
Extra buttons for the new blouse? Put it in the box labeled “Extra Buttons.”
And wonder of wonder, all these little tin boxes fit neatly into a bigger box that fits in special space in the laundry room.
When life is filled with little problems, box ’em, label ’em, and store ’em.
I suppose the national news scene has been another three-ring circus this week. No, not a circus: another grand guignol production.[i] I don’t really know: I turned off the television and focused my attention on small victories, of which I have three.
For the last three years, the old apricot tree in the front yard struggled to produce ten sad apricots. This year it is covered with large golden fruit. Thursday, I picked the first batch of ripe ones: they are soft, juicy and full of flavor. There is nothing better than tree-ripened apricots . (Is it possible to buy a descent apricot from the supermarket?) I suspect I must thank last year’s wildfires for the bounty of fruit. They filled the air with tons of ash that settled into the soil and boosted the nitrogen content.
There’s an African violet in the kitchen window that stubbornly refused to bloom for the past two years. Two days ago, Voila! two deep purple flowers, with a third in in the bud.
Three cheers for The Dollar Store. I bought a case of their small, metal shelving units. About two hours spent with these in the kitchen has doubled the storage space. The kitchen cupboards ARE ORGANIZED, and there is enough shelving left over to conquer the “under sink” storage as well.
[i] Le Théâtre du Grand-Guignol – known as the Grand Guignol – was a theatre in the Pigalle district of Paris. From its opening in 1897 until its closing in 1962, it specialised in naturalistic horror shows. Its name is often used as a general term for graphic, amoral horror entertainment, a genre popular from Elizabethan and Jacobean theatre, to today’s splatter films