Meredith and I have different opinions on how a kitchen should be organized. But I’m not delirious about who gets to decide this, it’s the person who cooks. Which isn’t me usually. Unless it’s late night or when Mama is working an evening. Even then, there’s usually instructions on what to make and how to make it. Which usually is warming something up or serving it from the crockpot. Yep, Meredith knows how to take care of us.
When I do attempt to cook or, more often, I do the dishes or empty the dishwasher, putting things away can be an experience. So can finding things in the various cabinets when it’s time to put them into action. I try to keep things organized, like with like and so on. There’s something about going for a drinking glass and finding the various species neatly arranged with their own kind. I keep the mugs separate from the glasses. Small glasses together. Tall together. You get it. Same goes for pots and pans. I try to stack them and achieve a level of visual calm and order. I’m working from the belief that neater feels better and also makes for easier locating of the coveted item.
Of course this means that Meredith has a different sense about an organized kitchen. In her view, as long as things are generally in their area and out of plain sight you’re good to go. And she always seems to know where to look for things. Which is a form of organized. Just not the form I grew up with. Which brings me to my mother and how she likes to help us out when she’s hanging with the kids while we’re working or something. We love how much she loves us and how she’s willing to pitch in to help and do things we don’t always have time for. Like cleaning and organizing our kitchen drawers and cabinets. (The other day she and the kids swept off our patio and the garage which was something I was “getting around to.” It was super helpful.) Which is an awesome way to show you care. We really appreciate Mom for this. But it’s just not a great investment of her time. Because in a matter of a week or so the spice drawer will no longer be in alphabetical order. While I share my mother’s desire for an orderly kitchen, Meredith does not. Well, not in the same way. It’s not a priority for her and I’ve come to love her more for it. Rather than murmuring under my breath every time I go for a glass of water.
