The Bandera Courier
Bandera Courier
Thursday December 14, 2017
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Squatter’s Rights

Mikie Baker

My romantic life is getting really serious. I just alphabetized My New Boyfriend’s spices.
Now first off, let me say that I’m not really that organized myself, but Very Best Friend has always been a half-crazed Container Store junkie. If there’s some new product that can systematize anything in her world, she must own it. VBF found the first extra-thin closet hangers sold in the universe so she could double her closet space in an instant. Her clothing now starts on the left side of her closet with blouses organized by white, clean white, winter white, ecru, beige, taupe, camel, well, you get the idea. I think the last thing on the right side is midnight black.
In fact one day VBF marched in to my house unannounced, began going through my spices, pitching everything that was expired and ended up alphabetizing what was left. I still can’t find anything. Does someone have any crème of tartar I can borrow?
I bet you’re wondering why, if that was such a catastrophic event for me, I would do the same thing to a man I obviously wanted to keep seeing on a regular basis. Frankly, I have no idea. Ladies, why don’t we just settle back here on the psychiatrist’s couch and analyze it together? Anybody bring wine?
Most of you women out there are married. You established your territory early on and have been in charge of your household for years. You divorced women grabbed what you could get and then filled in with what you needed. Widowed women have everything arranged exactly as they want so they are no longer interested in men. But we single, older gals who are still on the hunt have an entire home full of memories plus every pot, pan and gadget imaginable. I’ve thrown away weird gadgets for years because Dearly Demented Mom had a penchant for finding me every odd, use-it-only-once a year, gadget in the discount store universe.
Now that I have finally found a great guy, I have also found a kitchen full of every gadget I have, every one I’ve throw away plus everything his grandmothers and aunts handed down. Potato peeler? Why yes, there are four. Can opener – there are three, but only this one works. Using the other ones can cause permanent tendinitis.
During this past year, I’ve cooked plenty of meals in his kitchen; even the ultimate – Thanksgiving dinner for 13. I’d say I know his kitchen intimately and it’s been driving me crazy. Because I really “pushed” the place a notch up before Thanksgiving, I decided to lay low for awhile. Any woman worth her salt would. There’s only so much change a man can take, no matter what his age.
But today was one of those cold, dreary winter weekend days where your only choices are British Soccer on the tube, dusting and vacuuming or staging an attack on the gadgets and spices. And so I did. The pantry will just have to wait until next month, though I can barely wait to get my hands on that box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese that announces: “Good until April of 2009.” Still, I must move slowly and with stealth as I begin complete pantry domination.
Because today’s kitchen raid was so successful; I couldn’t help myself so I ended by alphabetizing his spices. I know they’ll be back in the order he’s used to within a week or two but, if only for today, I made the squatter’s stand. Luckily, MNB is still speaking to me even though the parsley follows the paprika.
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