If one more thing falls out of the cupboard and on to the counter top or the floor, while I’m trying to organize the overabundance of tea bags and boxes I have somehow accumulated, I am going to fly into a fit of tea-bag-ripping rage that may require my hospitalization. You think I’m kidding? I’m not.
I have been trying to reorganize my kitchen cabinets over the past few days. Moving piles of things from one place to another. This here. That there. Oh so much better. Pitching food that I just “had” to have on hand that is now 8 years old and was the feast for some unknown beetle species and its kin whose exoskeletons are my tip for exemplary service and selection. Ingrates.
Every time I feel I’m making progress in one area, a finger gets hooked on something or I’m carrying or moving too many things at once, and entropy balances the equation. Everything falls towards the floor in a whirling, water color mosaic of arms spinning, seemingly juggling cans and boxes and brightly colored kitchen towels and individually wrapped tea bags from vintages that are certainly unpalatable in 2013. Everything moves away from me in a rainbow spray of metal, cardboard and packaging fit to hang in the Louvre, all having served its purpose in landing it on the shelves of my overcapacity kitchen.
The imagery of this tea bag fury makes me smile, even though it’s NOT funny at all. Not at all.