Journey to the bottom of the cutlery drawer
If I were to find out about your life and I was part of a forensic team, CSI type, private detective or just scoundrelthe first place in your home I would investigate would be… the cutlery drawer.
Because in the cutlery drawer you keep things that might betray what you were doing three lifetimes ago.
Eye: I would check all the drawers in the kitchen. I would start with the cutlery drawer as it is closest to the “crime scene”.
We see a dilapidated matte bulb. Someone left it there. It’s clearly useless, but… they didn’t throw it away. If it has not been discarded, it must be saved. Where? In the cutlery drawer!
You have a headache. You take an aspirin from the blister, you drink water from the kitchen tap, and the rest of the blister, where does it go? In the cutlery drawer! And there it will remain next to another blister, expired in 2002and with other unidentifiable drugs even for the ANMAT, the Gamaleya Institute or for the manufacturers of eucalyptus gums.
There are also loose pills, petrifying, but… why doesn’t anyone dare throw them away? Are they the memory of a vanquished disease, will they have value in an antique dealer, or are they a social engineering experiment to see who in the family can plug one in?
Don’t think this only happens in your home. It is a universal problem. The kitchen drawer has trash everywhere, even in the cutlery drawers covered in lava after the Pompeii volcano erupted: this is how rubber bands come together, some rubber bands, some dry like a camel’s canteen, along with pens that don’t workglueless stickers, a wand without its partner, and wine bottle corks that are kept in case you need to cover a wine bottle or in case you feel like assembling a Molotov.
In the cutlery drawer the economic history of a country can be reconstructed. How? Easy: through the old coins accumulated in the corners that they can be 25 cents from the year 1967other 25 pesos from 1977, a few pennies left over from a trip from the “give me two” era, and even currency in circulation, which is normally used to open beer bottles when the bottle opener is n is not found.
Why isn’t the bottle opener in the cutlery drawer? Because there are several bottle openers and corkscrews, of which ONLY ONE works. Who? We do not know. And when you’re thirsty, you don’t have time to try 27 corkscrews and use the coin.
You can even deduce the degree of happiness or sadness in the house in which the cutlery drawer is analyzed. This is done by looking at the quantity and quality of plastic ice cream scoops and also by the number of old, faded, but… birthday candles. able to save you in an emergency forgetting that someone has a birthday involving the number 7.
You can also find lighters that don’t work, a magiclick whose 104-year warranty expired 15 years ago, moistened matchboxes, – not just the matches, but the box too – but everything is kept “just in case”. Although the bigger question is…why are they still kept?
That’s how things pile up, to the point where the plastic cutlery computer isn’t resting on the bottom of the drawer, but balancing on a thick layer of flyers with melted pizzeria promotions, bent spoons, remnants of old cutlery, a black handle, maybe a knife, fork or spoon, – you can’t tell – and a blue-handled fork with a mismatched wooden-handled spoondominoes, stacks about to leak and if you check carefully, even that wisdom tooth that popped out on its own and you thought you swallowed.
Also important is the presence of keys that do not open any door and that nobody knows even if they belong to the house or to another house, and you cannot miss the agarra corn, these little plastic corns with spikes, which since you have an odd number remaining are no longer used, even though every time you put your hand in the drawer, you get bitten.
And don’t be surprised by the presence of sugar cubes, a few olive pits, Leftover Happy Meal Dollshalf-scissors, tape that either has no more glue or is not used because it is impossible, so stuck, to find the beginning of the ribbon.
And yet the cutlery drawer has a magical property: when you need something, you go to the drawer, and there is none! Someone took it, maybe years ago, but it’s not where you thought it was.
So when you want to sit down to eat, you put your hand in the drawer and you are more likely to cut yourself, prick yourself or hurt yourself than finding a knife or a fork. It’s more: if you cut or injure yourself, you’ll probably find a box of bandages and think it’s a miracle. But those kind of miracles don’t exist, and you see it when you pick up the box of bandages and realize it’s empty.
And that’s where you swear next weekend you start tidying up. Yes or yes. I can’t live like this anymore. But deep down you know it’s like a promise with your toes crossed: it’ll never happen.