Junky or not, a junk drawer is what it is

I commissioned Better Half to embrace his first honey-do request of the new year — to do the unthinkable yet again, one more time with feeling.

Clean the junk drawer, please.

Or make that, clean the junk drawers, dearest.

Sadly, this presence in the kitchen has become a plural, having somehow increased its presence and stranglehold on our lives from one drawer in the kitchen to two.

Could a total takeover be far behind?

Everything is in the rubbish realm of possibilities in the Kiaski casa, I assure you.

The junk drawers are conveniently and not surprisingly side by side in the kitchen island, which makes it understandable that the overflowing contents of one drawer made their way next door. Very social stuff having one big let’s-expand party and ruining the neighborhood.

It’s time to do something about them when they can’t open or they can’t close, whichever situation arises first and causes the most exertion of energy.

Neither attempt should be a sweat-producing aerobic exercise.

And we are most ambitious about righting junk drawer wrongs when four circumstances collide — gumption levels are unusually elevated; it’s New Year’s resolution time revisited and that’s a holdover item still on the list; good intentions are, well, loitering in good mode; and we still believe in kitchen miracles.

Attempting to make the junk drawers more manageable is nothing wildly new in our household. It’s one of those pipe dreams that rates up there with other trivial household pursuits that if ever achieved would merit a whole minute’s mention maybe in a family Zoom meeting. That’s one achievement worth ripping your face mask off and gloating “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Or if nothing else perhaps it’s worth a P.S. on a belated Christmas card. “Not to brag, Aunt Rae, but our junk drawers are nice and tidy for the new year, or at least a new day. Hope yours are doing well.”

It is what it is, constitutes the 2 cents’ worth assessment of our junk drawers offered by Better Half, who tackles the task with the gusto of one trimming toenails for the first time since the last time. A very methodical and potentially frightening undertaking.

I say junk door management is a man’s job — a guy thing in the sense of kick the tire, check the oil, carve the turkey, that school of thought.

Better Half argues that it’s a joint undertaking, one that requires a healthy mix of supervision, collaboration and intervention.

Personally, I think he just wants fired from this volunteer job opportunity that offers no pay, no benefits, no accolades.

Seriously, I would not be fraught with worry if for some reason he threw away the owner’s manual to a vacuum cleaner we sat out for the trash guys five years ago.

Or did away with all the inkless pens and leadless pencils.

But what to keep and what not to keep involves some serious thinking for the most part, akin to basement business or closet cleaning.

Junk isn’t always junk, after all, which is why you need a drawer for it all.

It needs a home like all the misfit toys in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Sometimes junk is just what you need even when you can’t put your finger on it immediately because it’s stuck or hidden in the junk drawer that won’t open so well.

But all is well so far in 2022.

The Kiaski junk drawers have undergone a recent transformation, I am pleased to report.

They were once crammed and now are less crammed.

And from the mouth of the one who kicks the tires, checks the oil, carves the turkey and manages a mean junk drawer or two, their new state of being is one for a Zoom session or a greeting card boast.

It is what it is.


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