Pack Rat Patrol
It’s too hot to even think about a home improvement project. This may
explain why I gleefully volunteered to leave town for a few days to help
someone (who prefers to remain anonymous) clean out years of accumulated
household flotsam, like every issue of Texas Monthly back to 1977, a
multi-dozen collection of those disposable scoops that come with powdered
laundry detergent, and no less than 11 bottles of brass cleaner. When I started
to throw out a little box that contained the empty vials from her allergy
shots, she stopped me. “No, no. I saw in a magazine where you can stick those
in Styrofoam and make fresh flower arrangements,” she said. “But, Anonymous
Person,” I said, “Did you see the dates on those vials? 1975! I think we should
have a rule that if you haven’t done the project or used the thing in 20 years,
it’s outahere.” She frowned and let me toss the box.
After such self-righteous purging at another’s expense, I arrived home
determined to clean out my pantry before anyone could point a pack-rat finger
in my direction. It’s stuffed with small electric appliances with dastardly
specific uses: a sandwich griller, a fondue pot, a tempura pot, a Belgian
waffle iron, a Crock pot, a tabletop grill, a juicer, a popcorn popper, a knife
sharpener, an espresso machine, and a blender. I use the blender. Everything
else I boxed up to send to Goodwill. Then I was hit with a kind of small
appliance nostalgia – saccharine and selective.
I remember when my mom got her first blender. My sister and I were greeted
with shakes and fruit drinks every day after school for about a week. That’s
when she got her sandwich griller and, for several weeks, we enjoyed hot little
squares of bread filled with cheese and ham or peanut butter and jelly. Then
came the juicer and fresh carrot, apple, and tomato juice, soon followed by the
popcorn popper, the waffle iron, and -ultimately – the microwave, by which time
we were old enough to nuke our food alone. (I developed a taste for
scalding-hot peanut butter and bacon sandwiches.)
I unpacked the appliances and tucked them way back in pantry, behind the
canned goods and cereal where prying eyes will never find them. There’s always
room for a good tool.
This article appears in September 1 • 1995 and September 1 • 1995 (Cover).