THE THIRD DRAWER DOWN

One day, I am going to buy a recipe journal. And in that journal, I will keep all of my favourite recipes so I don't have go through the third drawer of shit every time I want to make something.

 

You know the drawer. The third drawer down in the kitchen. 

 

The first one of course is for your general cutlery.  Knives, spoons, forks, that kind of malarkey.  Although, you’d be hard pressed finding a spoon in ours due to our tragic teaspoon shortage.  I am still yet to determine who the spoon thief in the household is but I am heavily suspicious of Jack.  Where he is stashing these will no doubt present itself in the coming weeks.  Luckily, it’s hard to flush metal.

 

The second drawer down houses the big ticket items.  You know, the super dooper apple slicer, the peeler, bamboo skewers, salad servers with gigantic carrots on them, the can opener and the Teflon tube that apparently peels garlic, although no one has ever attempted this nor are they ever likely to. Why it hasn’t been turfed out is another Morley mystery.

 
That brings me to the third drawer. Now the actual drawer number may differ in your house, but I bet every single one of you have one – The third drawer down of shit.

 
In this drawer, all kinds of miscellaneous paraphernalia can be found.  In particular, nuts, bolts, batteries,  inappropriate wrapping paper, warranties and recipes scrawled on the back of empty envelopes.

 

I only write about this today because last night I was desperately trying to find a recipe for quiche that is unfuckerupable. It is idiot proof and I knew it was in that drawer SOMEWHERE.

On my way to (not finding it) I did encounter the following:

134 balloons and equal amount, candles:  Every day is a party at Chez Morley it seems.
 
Copious amounts of nuts and bolts:  Note, these will NEVER EVER be used for anything because whatever they belonged to has no doubt been chucked out in some sort of cleansing frenzy we go on from time to time.

Two, Twenty-first birthday cards: They will be very handy in about, oh, 11 years.


A ball of string:  I think this is just a mandatory third drawer of shit item. 

A set of unidentified keys:  I have a feeling these have followed us from house to house, but we are both too frightened to throw them out. Why I don’t know, because we’ve replaced every single door in this house and our cars have central locking.  I will approach Phil tonight about throwing them out.  I guarantee you he’ll say no.  It seems for every semi-new toy  he throws out behind my back, he scouts out a new key to add to this collection.

A mini shoe horn:  Can’t tell you much about this, other than the fact it’s mini and it’s not mine.  And no one ever uses it.

A double adaptor: I'm pretty sure this would blow up our house if it were to be plugged in.

A coke bottle label:  Apparently we still think we might be the lucky winner of a competition from 2006.  

Our bank book from January 2004.  For a bank account that no longer exists. Seriously??

3 Printer install disks: none of which we own any longer. 

Last but not least, our warranties:  We seem to have the enviable ability to keep warranties for each and every Fisher Price toy we’ve ever received (and probably no longer even own), yet bugger me if I can find the receipt for the camera I bought just over a week ago.  I only know this, because I was about to take a photo of the third (and fourth it appears) drawer of shit for the post and it won’t work. 

 
Anyway I couldn’t find my quiche recipe.   Fuck knows where it is, but it certainly doesn’t live in either of those two drawers.  This led to me moaning to anyone that would listen, that I need a journal.  A dedicated recipe journal and the feedback was mixed.

 
Some of you say you’ve got one and keep it well maintained.  Some say you have a blog where all the great recipes are kept for prosperity and sharing purposes.  Some, like me, say they shove them in a drawer and pull them out every 6 months or so and a few said they couldn’t understand why I was cooking when I have a perfectly good husband.    I liked the last person very much.

 
Actually, we share the cooking load and don’t get me wrong, we have our bog standard meals that get  cooked week in, week out, but sometimes, I want something exotic (not last night clearly, quiche is more Fountaingate than Barbados), but you know what I mean.  Hence I think it's time to grow up and get myself organised. 

 
Now, I have a camera receipt to track down.  It could be on top of the fridge.  That is my second favourite place to horde really important stuff.

I’d love to hear what you do.  Do you have a journal or box?  What about a dedicated drawer of shit?  Or am I just totally alone in this one.