This is not to say that her house is immaculate, but it’s definitely organized. For example, on any given day you can walk in and find stacks of items sitting on her kitchen countertop–but you can also bet each little pile is another example of organization. One is outgoing mail, another is a collection of items she wants Dad to look at, and there’s almost always a separate pile for each of her grown children, just waiting for the owner to stop by and claim it. There could be paperwork for my brother, dishes and gadgets she’ll be giving to my grown daughters the next time she sees them, and a TV schedule from the Sunday paper (along with several pieces of a decadent dessert!) she’s been saving for me.
Even the inside of her cupboard is organized. She owns an old set of dishes that came in an assortment of four different colors. To peer into her cupboard is to see alternating rows of yellow, white, blue and pink. The layers do not vary, nor is the order of color allowed to change. In other words, the blue plate will never get to know the yellow one–unless they meet in the sink amidst the bubbles. These layers of color also serve as a security measure. My mother knows at a glance when one dish is missing because the layers are disrupted. When that happens, she scowls at me and says, “Kathy, do you still have that plate I sent the apple crisp over on–you know, the pink one?” Just like that, I’m busted
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