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I hear a faint beeping noise coming from my kitchen as I finish off trace amounts of lukewarm coffee from a mug commemorating Earth Day in 2004. It’s the dishwasher telling me that cups, stemware, utensils, and tupperware are finally ready to be transferred to cupboards above microwave, kitchen sink, and refrigerator.
Doing the dishes is a task as menial as any other. Laundry, taking out trash, sweeping, dusting, and doing the dishes – these are all tasks that fall under the almighty umbrella of “Saturday morning chores.”
Everything in the dishwasher is completely dry and ready to be moved, save for the tupperware tops which, for whatever reason, refuse to dry completely like their neighbors of the plate, bowl, fork, cup, and spoon variety.
In my time as a transient renter, I’ve saved a lot of shit that probably should never have been saved.
Lamps that I have left in boxes for months on end. Really ugly plastic cups that I, for whatever reason, have saved from dive bars and restaurants all over the country. And most importantly, tupperware.
I currently have in my possession no less than one hundred pieces of tupperware sitting in my kitchen. I know that number sounds outrageous to some, but I can assure you that it’s true.
It might even be closer to two hundred. And the sad part is I probably have three or four tupperware bowls that see heavy rotation. The rest sit to collect dust because I can’t find their lids.
I have a problem, and that problem is tupperware hoarding. I’ve lived with people from a lot of different backgrounds and varying degrees of capability. In the years that I’ve been a renter, I’ve noticed one thing, though: on move in day, everyone is bringing in their own tupperware.
For whatever reason, I am always the one who ends up with most of these plastic storage containers when we part ways for new apartments. This, of course, has allowed me to collect a very impressive array of containers for veggies, fruits, proteins, carbs, healthy fats, and seeds and dressings.
I have more tupperware in my possession than most middle aged women with three kids in elementary school do.
Take a peek into any of my kitchen cupboards and you’ll find shelves full of plastic tupperware which are missing their matching tops and are doomed to lay dormant for, well, as long as I’m living in the apartment which I call home.
Keeping track of a tupperware bowl and its matching, moisture resistant lid is like asking someone to finish a chapstick to its completion. It’s damn near impossible, and anyone who says they can keep track of lids for their tupperware is a goddamn liar.
A lid and a tupperware container are about as easy to keep track of as a child in a store full of candy. It’s just not happening.
And I know what you’re thinking right now. If you can’t find the lids for most of your tupperware, why don’t you just throw it out?
That answer is beyond me. I don’t know why. I think in the back of my mind I believe that there’s some magical drawer or closet space I just haven’t inspected in a while which will inevitably hold all of my missing tupperware lids and those really tiny Rubbermaid bowls which we all know are for ranch dressing or hot sauce.
Laziness is certainly a factor. Asking me, a 26-year-old man, to throw out a tupperware bowl with no lid is just way too much work. But I also think it’s the dad in me. The guy who wants to pinch pennies. The father in me says “No, way. Keep that tupperware bowl without a lid and no real useful purpose. You never know.”
And you never do know. Maybe I’ll use that useless Sterilite protein bowl with no top to serve a salad to house guests. What I do know is this – I’ve got no cupboard space with all of this tupperware and I don’t see it changing anytime soon. This is the life I’ve chosen to live, and it’s probably not going to change..
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