Nothing says, “I’m fixin to get my shit together”, like a new set of Tupperware.
It’s a good feeling to have everything arranged so neatly and organized. With a full set of Tupperware, the world belongs to me.
I can meal prep and layout each serving individually.
I can start putting my protein powder in the little container to take with me to the gym.
The ranch can fit in its own little cup, separate from the vegetables.
I can start packing my kid’s lunches in an organized fashion.
The leftovers will be stored in Tupperware containers in its own part of the fridge.
Everything matches, everything snaps together, everything has a place.
Life will be so good.
But what happens?
I forget about the baked chicken in the front seat of my car in June temperatures because I accidentally covered it up with a Burger King wrapper, leaving me with the dilemma of trashing the container or risking my life trying to wash a $.38 plastic bowl. I bring home my protein powder container but forget the lid. The lasagna that I took to Drew’s house was left with him so he could finish it; he returned a Tupperware dish that was similar in size but isn’t the same set, so it doesn’t “Snap” together properly with the rest of the set. My medium containers get mixed with the large, and what the hell happened to all of the small ones? I have plenty of round lids but no round containers and plenty of rectangle containers but no rectangular lids.
Why do I have “screw on” lids but no threaded containers?
Where did the blue dish come from?
“Honey, are we supposed to return this to someone?”
“Is this from your mom’s house or my uncle’s birthday?”
Pretty soon, its all a gigantic mess sitting underneath a cabinet that I am too afraid to open. I’ll just keep the door shut, never look at it, eat McDonald’s, serve my kids Lunchables, and pay the extra $3 for the protein drink. The thought of re-organizing the jumbled inventory is too much. I will try not to think about it but I do and it gives me angst.
I can throw it all out and start over. Clean house. Get rid of it all. Buy a whole new set and start fresh. I’m not talking about leaving some of the old Tupperware in case someone wants it or “maybe I will use it later”. I’m talking about trimming the fat, starting fresh, getting a clean start, replacing the old with the new.
The monetary investment towards a fresh start is minimal. The time spent unpacking a new beginning is next to nothing. It’s the holding on to the things that provide me with no benefit in hopes of maybe someday adding value which clutters up my cabinets and only adds to the confusion and chaos. It’s the belief that maybe all of the pieces will magically appear and make me feel whole that makes my pantry a storage shed of anxiety.
It’s often wise to just clean house and start with a fresh set.