I Learned Something Recently: There’s No Organizing My Spice Cabinet
Nobody needs five jars of ground cloves for fooks sake
Nor seven different types of sea salt, six jars of chili powder, two tins of garam masala, and a whole host of exotic leaves, seeds, flakes, and more.
Talk about meshugenah!
For months, I’ve been meaning to clean out the plethora of spices that seem to have taken up a life of their own. I swear, they must be propagating while my husband and I sleep. Merely opening the pantry and seeing the jars, bottles, baggies, and tins of stuff, some of which I’ve never used, spikes my blood pressure.
Because the shit around here has been tense and stressful, as we wait for my husband to take it up the rear this Tuesday with his colonoscopy (also, my birthday, yaaaaay!), I’ve been busying myself around the house, tending to chores that I’ve let slide. Hoping that my loco-motion might help my anxiety, as well as my depression, which has become a constant companion.
A toxic companion.
A couple of days ago, I nearly ran myself into the ground cleaning. Dusting. Scrubbing. Mopping. “Spring cleaning,” one might call it, even though this has been one of the most fucked-up springs in recent memory here in Chicagoland. We’re still…
