MY JUNK DRAWERS
by Lydia Bogar
The junk drawer in my kitchen holds the tools that are not down cellar in my pink tool bag. Screwdrivers, both flat and Philips, a blue hammer, green florist tape, black electrical tape, twist ties, elastic bands. And then there are the Band-Aids, the razor blades, the box of matches from the Goat Island Grill in Georgetown SC, night light, broken night light, stapler, 3 boxes of staples, scissors, my Stanley tape measure and a carpenter’s pencil, a souvenir from my 2015 kitchen reno.
The junk drawer next to my bed holds pens and pencils, Sudoku puzzles, an extra pair of glasses, Chapstick, bookmarks, small pads of paper, more Band-Aids, Mass cards, hand cream, mechanical pencil refills, flashlight, 2015 Ellis Island Membership card, TV remote, Halls’ Lozenges, face cream, paperclips, and a miniature map of the Manhattan subway system.
What do these drawers have to say? That I’m a little OCD and that there’s an obvious difference between the private drawer in my room and the larger, public drawer in my kitchen. Strange and personal, but under control. After all, these contents are not on my bureau, kitchen counter, or the floor.
I think of my friend Theresa whose life resembles a junk drawer, one that she cannot unpack without professional support. So many trials. So much self-destruction. Not in the same ballpark as the items in my drawers that I call junk.
I have now consolidated the boxes of staples—some have been reunited with the staple gun while others have joined the stapler in my desk. The loose razor blades are back in the box. The twist ties and broken night light have been tossed. And the tape measure is back in the car, where I was compelled to purge the glove box and the console compartment.
I am thankful for my junk spaces–that I can unpack at will.
Our own “Renaissance Woman,” Lydia has done everything from teaching English to doing volunteer emergency service. She says she “hails from Woosta– educated at BOLLI.”