“The recession is coming! The recession is coming!” shouted the flat bond yield curve!
(Is now the time to sell stocks and buy bonds?)
“Take that!” warned Hawaii’s Kilauea as she hurled lava bombs at tourists.
(Is my home insurance adequate?)
“I meant to say ‘wouldn’t’ instead of ‘would’,” the Donald backpedaled.
(Is our president sinking us in Helsinki?)
Financial, home, and national security fears arose this week. I know this is true because I read it on the Internet.
When the world spins out of control, I firmly grasp my personal part of it with two hands. Controlling small fragments of it helps me gather strength to face more pressing issues.
That’s why I organized the plastic container bins Sunday morning.
I can’t count on the current stock market prices, stop a lava flow, or muzzle Trump, but I CAN stop the landslides of food storage containers.
Domesticating the plastic container herds require steady hands, a scrutinizing eye, and resolve. In addition to the bin of milling containers in the kitchen, two tipsy ones formed double peaks atop the garage freezer. After extracting the kitchen container bin and locating escapees from the depths of the lower cabinet, I scaled the freezer mountain and moved those bins at a glacier’s pace so as not to dump the jumble.
After rounding up the food storage containers, I matched lids to bottoms. I chuckled at a past attempt of taming the chaos. Faint labels of “d”, “m”, “L”, mocked me. The strategy had been to label the lids and bottoms with corresponding letters. Then an “a” lid is easily matched with an “a” bottom without needing to fit them together to confirm a match.
The practice of labeling components with matching letters soon revealed flaws. Not only did washing lighten the markings, but orientation added difficulty. A “d” and “m” might be an upside down “p” and “w”. The “L” might really be a “7”.
I had taken to using numbers as well as letters because I had forgotten where I left off in the alphabet when I acquired new containers. Then I forgot where I left off with the numbers. Poised to begin a letter and number combination, I abandoned the system. (I DO know when to call it quits.)
I’ve returned to the policy of fitting lid and bottom together before committing to filling the bottom with leftovers. If I don’t use this precaution, I may have a filled bottom container and no lid. Then I have to decide if I should Saran Wrap the top, or use a different container with a lid that I CAN find.
Storing leftovers is more challenging than it appears.
After sorting, l had a few orphaned lids and rogue bottoms. My compassion for the underdog gave them one more opportunity for occupancy in my organized plastic container bins. Currently they reside in a containment camp on my counter awaiting the next dishwasher unloading. If their matches are unearthed, they are awarded bin citizenship.
Surveying my newly organized food storage containers I took confidence in my ability to transform chaos to order.
A recession will come at some time. I’ll sell my weaker stocks and buy Munis.
Natural disasters can’t be averted. I’ll check my homeowner’s insurance policy.
Trump will misspeak and misTweet. I’ll . . . never mind.
I think I’d have a better chance at controlling the Kilauea lava flow than Trump’s tongue.