"whatever, darien" kitchen edition.

Friday, July 29, 2011

I simply don't have the energy to go into how my move went. Overall, things were fine. Corrie and I rarely (if ever) get sick of each other, and typically run on the same blood sugar cycle. Once I figure out how to transfer photos from my new camera to my computer, I promise I will show you the pictures of me standing outside of Hanson's office in Tulsa. YEAH, I WENT THERE.

Darien left for tour a few hours after I got into town, which has left me with the responsibility of unpacking and organizing our cumulative belongings. Yesterday I tackled his kitchenware, and compartmentalized every piece of utensil imaginable.

I rarely use kitchens or any of the appliances, although I do have a lot of stuff from when I first moved out when I was 17 and attempted to be domestic with my now ex-boyfriend. I actually came home from work and school and made things like chicken parmigiana and random pasta dishes I invented every single night. Some Sundays I would stay in all day and cook food for the week and save it neatly in tupperware containers that I had labeled with its contents and the date so we could easily reheat them when I was too tired to cook. I'm sure you all think I'm lying because it's the opposite of pretty much everything I've set you up to expect from me, and subsequently everything I've become, but trust me... there was really a time in my life where I cooked for myself (and sometimes a man) seven days a week and then did the dishes after... and honestly? I didn't mind it because I loved it. Needless to say, pretty much all of the cooking utensils I acquired over that time are now just sleeping in my parents' spare room and will probably stay there until they move and pack them into boxes in preparation for them to live in new spare rooms where they'll never be touched. It's all just shit we gotta move around now.

So, I'm looking in one of the giant tubs where he packed all the utensils, corkscrews, and other small shit of that nature... and I noticed that I keep seeing the same cheese grater over and over again. So I take it out of the tub and put it on the counter so I can continue on my hunt without tripping over it again. Then I realize that the reason why I kept seeing the cheese grater is that he owns THREE of them (not including the regular 4-sided cheese grater).

Darien owns THREE cheese graters. Now if there is something you need to know about Darien, it is his love (and survival off of) cheese. He grates cheese regularly... maybe for tacos on a couple occasions, cooking purposes -- and maybe that's why he requires one of them... but three others? I am borderline fully confident that most of my friends don't even own one cheese grater, let alone three of them that are wasting their lives away inside of a drawer.


This is why I hate Americans. Like, who the heck is running around with three cheese graters in their possession and doesn't even know it? I feel like I have to donate them somewhere now because I feel so guilty. It's not that they're expensive or that important, but how can we have multiples of something completely unbeknownst to me? Did I also forget about the blood diamonds I shoved in the back of my freezer along with the overflowing ice maker? Who knows what else I've accumulated and forgotten about. Do I have an adopted AIDS baby shoved in the storage box I keep my pajamas in? What about an urn full of Abe Lincoln's teeth or Frank Sinatra's last breath trapped in a mayonnaise jar just haphazardly crammed under the bathroom sink next to the toilet brush?

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

If you live in Nashville and need a cheese grater, send me an email. I have at least two I'm going to give away. I figure I need to keep one because I'm sure Darien will kick me out for pawning his precious belongings off. I know when he comes home and "needs" to use one, I'd have to explain that I gave it away over the Internet because I realized that I'm a wasteful whore. That's too much work just to eat some tacos or whatever.

Seriously, if you want one of the graters, email me. I'll see what I can do about getting it to you.