Plastic Lids

by Jen on November 6, 2011

I like to think I’m fairly patient.  I didn’t say I was patient – just fairly patient.  (Having to clarify probably means I’m not so patient, huh?)

You guys are always so judgmental.

Anyway, if I’m going to lose my patience, I most often lose it in the kitchen.  No, not when I’m cooking.  I like that part.  It’s when I’m attempting to play Cabinet Tetris with my dishes.  See, I might have a few too many things shoved in places not equipped to handle my bulk.

I’ve got a decent amount of tools, helping to make me the best Paula Deen I can be, but I have an indecent amount of cabinet space.  So, to make it all fit, I’ve strategically balanced and stacked and organized each cabinet.  Except for my plastic lids – the flimsy red sauce stained lids used for sealing up leftovers before they hit the fridge.  Those guys?  They are a mess.

My mother-in-law (who is a wee bit OCD) helped me adopt her method of organization, providing me with a shoe box shaped plastic tub to curb my problem.  I neatly aligned my lids like books on a bookshelf and voila!  ORGANIZED!  They fit like a glove.

So please tell me why each time I empty the dishwasher, I must fight with the plastic tub like I’m in a schoolyard brawl.  I’m not adding lids!  My lids aren’t gaining weight!  If anything, I’m short lids due to the ones safeguarding my current leftovers.  What in the crap?

So following one catastrophic relaxed day in June, those lids DID ME IN.  Picture this:

I’m carefully slamming putting my dishes away, saving my lids for last.  Dum dee dum, la da di dum.  (See?  I was relaxed.  I wouldn’t be humming otherwise.)  I take my lid tub out of the cabinet.  Fine.  I slide in the first lid.  No problem.  The second?  Piece of cake.  The third is a tighter fit than expected, but it’s fine.  The final lid requires a little work, but still, success.

La da di dummmmm. 

“What’s for dinner?”  George asks from the bedroom and he sheds his tie and work clothes.

I lift the tub ‘o lids back into the cabinet.

“I think I’m going to make….”

One of my lids is too tall in the tub, preventing me from sliding the tub into it’s designated home.

“What are we having?” he shouts from our bedroom.

I adjust the lids again.

“Ummm, I think I’m gonna do…. Shit.  Why won’t this fit?”

I shove the tub in the cabinet with a little more force.  It’s another “no go”.

George walks into the kitchen.

“Did you answer me?  I couldn’t hear you.”

I ignore him.  My mind is focused on these maniacal lids.  They are taunting me now.

I take out four lids.  Shuffle them and try it again.

“Ugggghhhhh.  This is FRUSTRATING ME!”

“What?!?  Dinner?”

I start bending lids.

“Jebbee, why are you frustrated?  We can go out to eat if you want.”

Bending lids makes other lids fall out of the tub.

“No, not frustrated about dinner.  I’m, ummmm……”

I’m concentrating too hard to finish a damn sentence.  Lids are falling out of the tub and onto the floor.

“So, what are you gonna make?”  He’s oblivious to the war waging in front of him.

I pick up the lids off the floor and grit my teeth.

“I’m not sure.  I want to get these dishes put away, and then I’ll figure something out, okay?”

I slam lids into the tub with disgust.

“Okay cool, just curious.”  He walks to the freezer to get the lay of the land.

All my lids are back in the tub.  My taller lids on their sides.

“What about doing something with this venison?”

I place the tub in the cabinet.  Fits. Like. A. Glove.  Ahhhhhh.

“What about the venison?” I ask distractedly.

Shit.  Is that another lid left in the dishwasher?  MOTHER F….

“I don’t know.  Couldn’t you make something with this venison?” He holds up the frozen package.

I snatch the rogue lid from the dishwasher and pull my tub back out of the cabinet.  I squeeze it in causing uncooperative other lids to jump ship.

“Maybe some venison sliders or something???”

My jaw is tight.  I hate these lids.

I pick up the rogue lid and walk to our trash can.  Rogue lid, BE GONE.  I never cared for you anyway!

“Why did you just throw away a perfectly good lid?”

I shoot him a look.

He gets it now.  He knows I’m on the edge of sanity.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yes.” I hiss through clenched teeth.

“Can I help?”

I put the original lids back into the tub, and lift them BACK into the cabinet.  The tall lid, the initial culprit of this entire fiasco, prevents me from finishing this task once again.  It’s more than I can handle.

I whip around and chuck the entire tub and 20 lids across the kitchen.


I am enraged.  EN-RAAAAGED.

Plastic lids sail into the air like clay pigeons, and I swear, had I had a gun, I’d have attempted target practice.

Wiener dogs run for cover, tails between their legs.  George stares at me like I’d lost my mind.

I had.

Those lids beat me.  Those lids can blow me.

So, I tell this story to provide you with a little insight into my future.  (Not just to prove I’m a psycho every now and again.)

My future is in New York City.  Manhattan.  Land of cramped living spaces.  George sent me a video of an apartment he may commit to on Monday.  It’s being rehabbed, which is nice, but still, it’s probably not even 450 square feet.  (Brokers never reveal square footage in The City because it’s too depressing to calculate your dollar per square foot cost.)  My guesstimate says we are going to be paying about a million dollars per square inch.  My ass needs to get a J.O.B.

Well, not my literal “ass”.  Nobody would hire that.

In conclusion, I’m downsizing to move uptown.  Who needs 20 lids?  Not this girl.  Not anymore.

I realize the video isn’t Cameron Crowe quality (George’s talents lie elsewhere), but it will still give you a glimpse into what may be our future Manhattan mansion.  Disregard the maintenance dudes.  They don’t come with the place.  I’m kind of hoping the guy in the suit does, though.  Creepster.


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{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }

1 mamamash November 6, 2011 at 10:59 am

For real, you don't need kitchen stuff at all. Who cooks in NYC? Find the good delivery places and the closest cafe. And leave the lids in Florida.

And I love you even more for flipping out about the lids. I do this all the time. The same lid will fall out on the floor over and over again until I just throw it across the room and storm out of the kitchen. Lids are the debil.


2 Jen Has A Pen November 6, 2011 at 12:12 pm

What is so funny to me about this story is that George (oh ye of few flaws) is very impatient. He wrings his hands like he's about to snap someone's neck when he gets frustrated, but this story will live in infamy around here as the day I went crazy. On days I'm irritable, he always cracks on me about it. Ass.

I've paired down A LOT of stuff. We sent a huge amount of stuff to my MIL's house. She's got a pretty empty attic, so we are so grateful she will keep it for us. Adding a storage facility on top of the costs of Manhattan living wasn't gonna happen. I'm taking 4 plates, 4 cups, 4 bowls, 1 corning ware, 1 cookie sheet… stuff like that. It's gonna be different for sure.

I will still be a psycho from time to time… so no change there. 😉


3 Karin November 6, 2011 at 11:34 am

I hate the lids, too. Cursed lids. I also have a tub o’ lids. It’s one of my least favorite cabinet dwellers. I often just toss them out to make space for more. LOL


4 Jen Has A Pen November 6, 2011 at 12:12 pm

I hate them. I feel like lids are the laughing hyena's of my cabinets!!!!


5 Lynne November 6, 2011 at 11:39 am

For the record I am not a little OCD, I am a lot OCD………………


6 Jen Has A Pen November 6, 2011 at 12:13 pm

I was being polite. 😉 I love that you are honest.


7 chosenchaos November 6, 2011 at 3:02 pm

HATE the lids. And gadget drawers that get too full and stuck when opening. Grrrrr


8 Rach DonutsMama November 8, 2011 at 10:41 pm

Lids and storage containers bug me too. You know, there's this blog I read and it's a food blog. The lady is in NYC and I always wonder how big her kitchen is–and where she stores everything!


9 Lynne November 22, 2011 at 3:32 pm

Love the place! My kitchen cabinets have random lids all over the place and I hate it!


10 Andrea February 3, 2012 at 3:23 pm

Oh my G-d. I just died. I know – I'm still reading. It's your fault, I am reverse reading your NYC journey. Including watching that awesome video you linked to in a previous (later?) post. But this? We are soul sisters. I have lost my mind over this stuff and much less. I hope your NYC life has you coordinating less (fewer) lids? And LOTS more ziplocks. Trust me. Eco-friendly my ass. Seriously. But I do Pyrex now. And I have loads of space. And the lids still eff up my organizing efforts. They're so out to get me. 😉


11 Jen Has A Pen February 5, 2012 at 8:31 pm

Gurl, I was a psycho that day. I wanted to find a weapon and do weapony things to those fuckin' lids.


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