I think I have issues.
I was heading out the door this afternoon to run some errands, but then I spotted a dirty container in the sink and had to delay my exit by five minutes while I emptied the dishwasher, put away the plates and pots and silverware, rinsed the container, and stuck it in the dishwasher. It’s not the anal-retentive nature of the task itself that troubles me, but rather, the reason for this strict attention to detail: I have this irrational fear that, should something serious happen to me while I’m gone – say I get hit by a semi truck and die, for instance – whoever is left to sort through my townhouse would incorrectly assume that I was a slob who thought nothing of leaving a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Which is ridiculous because, if I’m dead, why should I care what other people think about me, anyway? I’M DEAD. Besides, if I’m going to obsess over trivial things like that, I should be more worried about what they’d discover in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.
I’m just sayin’.
One of the stops I made today was IKEA, which I swear is a Swedish acronym for Insane parking, Killer meatballs, Everything’s Assembled. I find the store oddly irresistible, though I rarely buy anything there. The best part of the experience is just walking around. I blame this on the excellent film (500) Days Of Summer, which includes a memorable IKEA scene. Zooey Deschanel could convince me to shop anywhere. I too want to skip through the aisles and pretend to serve dinner in a display kitchen and hold an intimate conversation on a display bed while a random Chinese family invades the bathroom, but I’m usually alone when I go, and people tend to look at you funny if you talk to yourself, a fact I’ve learned – embarrassingly enough – through experience. True to form, I did not purchase anything today, but I did have my eye on a bar with hooks that you mount in the kitchen for hanging coffee mugs from. I only held back because it’s stainless steel, a look that is depressingly modern (and I just wrote about how I prefer vintage decor), but then again I do have a stainless wall-mounted wine rack I purchased there that is quite handy, so I may yet pick it up one day.
I also walked through Home Goods, a store that sells home goods (though where they ever came up with the name is a mystery). I was thrilled to see a big Halloween display there. Now that Portland has finally decided to go ahead and proceed with summer (it’s been consistently hot all week, and now we’ve thrown in humid for good measure), I am even more ready for fall. I have to admit, however, that not everybody feels the same way. I was driving down the road the other day and came across a bunch of trees whose leaves were already turning color. Delighted, I snapped a pic with my phone and posted it to my Facebook wall. The feedback was swift and powerful. People were in denial, insisting the trees were merely in need of a little water. One friend even called me an “@ss.” I’m surprised death threats didn’t follow. Some people, it seems, actually enjoy summer and aren’t looking forward to the start of the long, gray and cool rainy season.
I know, I know. It boggles my mind, too.
Oh! I bought some square white plates this week. I’ve been inspired by the cooking shows I enjoy watching. The chefs always work with white plates so they can concentrate on artistic designs using colorful sauces. While I think the taste of the food is really what’s important, presentation doesn’t hurt. I’ll just have to save those dishes for special occasions where I can actually “plate” something artistic, instead of using them to serve Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese.
And yes, I am rambling.
The things I want to talk about I can’t.
Which explains the glass of merlot at 4:30. I don’t even drink red wine…