Junk Drawer as Metaphor

I bet we’ve all got one – a junk drawer.  I have two – side by side.  Maybe I have more junk than most?  I dunno, but it makes sense to me.

During this pandemic (wow, never thought I’d write those three words together in a sentence) I’ve been doing a version of Marie Kondo that has me wiping things down and pitching things as I go.  (I haven’t searched Goodwill, but I suspect they don’t want any of our stuff for obvious reasons, so it will sit in the garage until it’s safe to pass on.)

As I methodically wipe/pitch/sort, I over-think.  Surprise!

 

I hope you are coping well with the way life is these days.  For the six or so people who still read this blog, I’ve most likely checked in with you.  But I would suggest that none of us truly knows how we are doing.  We mention that our pantries are stocked, or that the car will have to be taken out for a spin, or that we dusted off some old board games, or that we’ve found a new crush on Netflix.

But how are you really?

 

You might know me well enough, by now, to know that I am at peace with where the world is today.  I firmly believe that this pandemic will provide us with a much-needed reset.  I also know that you most likely don’t agree with me.  🙂

 

As I was getting ready to organize one of my junk drawers, I couldn’t help but notice the obvious metaphor.

If my junk drawer represents my life, this is what I would describe:

A toddler (Coronavirus) just came into my kitchen and pulled open the junk drawer to look for his Hot Wheel. (Seriously, there is no significance with my referring to the virus as a he.  I think.)  He pulled the drawer open too far, and because I wasn’t there to catch it, the drawer landed on the floor with a deafening crash.  All the contents of the drawer flew in every direction.  Some things ended up under the range, some under the fridge.  Some bounced and landed in the sink full of a solution of bleach water.  I heard a couple items roll into the living room.

The toddler (that fricking virus) laughed and ran into his bedroom to look for his little car, because it was not in the junk drawer.

 

What could I do?

 

I did the only thing that made sense.  I cleared a spot on the floor and sat down to survey the damage.  I grabbed the dividers and the organizing containers and I started sorting.  I worked slowly, remembering to breathe.  Instead of yelling at the rascal who created this disaster, I focused on the task at hand.

 

Wow, I have a lot of binder clips.  Why?  What am I trying to control?  What is my need to contain?  How much of it can I have any influence on?

And pencils?  Why do I keep the stubby ones?  Am I worried I will never be able to afford more pencils?

I have batteries for gadgets I no longer own.  I save batteries that I’m sure lost their juice back when Will played with remote-controlled cars.  Am I hanging on to those just in case they’ll revive, even though I know they won’t?

I’m sure Post-Its are replicating in that drawer, or I have some misguided fear of running out, so I buy them even if I don’t need them.  Could be buying pencils instead?

I don’t even know what flew under the range or the fridge or rolled into the living room.  I’m not sure I care.

 

I made a 4th cup of coffee, even tho’ my limit is 3/day.  Desperate times (pandemic or spilled junk drawer) allow for desperate measures, and aren’t we limited enough already?!  I even poured whipping cream in for additional comfort, and sat down amidst all the contents of my “junk drawer” to methodically decide what to keep and what to pitch.

 

QUIT trying to control, I said to myself, loudly enough to make the cat jump.

You’ve survived this far on a restricted budget.  You’ve mastered life with a tightened belt.  Buy the damn pencils.

Friendships that have long since lost their juice will not revive without a great deal of effort.  Choose wisely.

It’s okay to stock-pile Post-Its.  I’m allowed my ideosyncrasies and all the other things that make me me.  I am keeping the second junk drawer!

All the stuff under the fridge or range or wherever it landed –  I’ll deal with that when it arises.  Or not.

 

How will you organize your “junk drawer?”

 

More importantly, stay safe!

4 Replies to “Junk Drawer as Metaphor”

  1. Kira! So nice to see you here. What a pleasant surprise. Maybe you’ve started sorting by now? Seems you did a major sort by getting off Twitter, no? I admit I still go there every day. I hope you are navigating this craziness without a lot of stress. Stay well. Hope to see you again.

    Best wishes!

    Jesse

  2. Oh how I’ve missed your writing! I haven’t been on twitter in over five years I think! Oh how time truly flies. This post hit close to home for sure! I think with this new normal and state of being we can all take time to revisit, sort our junk drawers. I have plenty! I simply need to start. Not sure why I haven’t. I have nothing but time on my hands. It may be a fun undertaking as I don’t fully know what’s piled within each drawer. Maybe I am also fearful on their contents as I am unsure what I stored deep down. Your post is the reminder needed to start. I can go at my own pace, and be kind to self through the process. I can hold onto what I want and let go of things no longer serving a purpose. I hope you are well & your troop. I will plan to stop by more often. I miss and appreciate your posts.

    Stay safe! Take care!

    Kira

  3. Lynn,

    We’ve all been forced to prioritize because of this. Some may find it more difficult than others. I suspect you had your priorities in line all along. 🙂

    I trust you and your dear ones are healthy and close.

    Thinking of you.

  4. Love this! Love you! This whole experience has caused me to whittle down life to its most essential, precious pieces: beloved family, beloved friends, the provision of food, shelter, and kindness—I am so grateful for deep breaths and deep sighs of peace. Thank you for your beautiful words!

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