Good and sunny morning in my kitchen. There are hundreds of spices in the drawers, plenty of groceries in the fridge, couple of shelves filled with cans, bags and boxes and I am staring at the stove and thinking of what to eat. Eventually I take the bread with butter and sliced chicken with maybe few leaves of a lettuce. Like every morning…
Then when I finish my breakfast I go upstairs and open the wardrobe. There I stand still for few minutes to arrange my work outfit for today. Instead of new ironed shirt and new pair of chinos I grab a pair of jeans, polo shirt and the jersey. Almost the same as yesterday but with different colors and with definitely the same shoes. With the wardrobe packed with trousers, sweaters, t-shirts, and shoes I hardly ever wear 70% of them. So where’s the point to keep them all? Shall I wait for those rare occasions that will never occur or for the vintage comeback from the 90’s (my oldest t-shirt I’ve got is from the ’96…)
Then in the evening when I’m back from work and I want to have few minutes in silence with just one of my books I turn to the bookshelves. Each time I promise myself to read one of those untouched since I have bought them or got them as a present. I counted my library two weeks ago and there were 1206 books in the room and circa about 40% which I have never opened. When I am going to read them all, especially with the new books coming every week or so?
How it come that with so many receipts in the internet we still eat the same things every day or at least every week? Is it a kind of a dreadful dressing routine or emotional attachment to those few quotidian clothes we wear? And is it just the laziness that keeps us out of the unread stories which are catching dust on the bookshelves?
Well, my cooking attitude was born in the 90’s when all we had for most of the dinners were potatoes, sausage and stewed cabbage.
I will remember for the end of my life those mid 90’s crisis breakfasts and suppers with a slice of bread with margarine and thinnest slice of tomato. I’m struggling with it even now while being called a minimalist or a kitchen layman whereas it is just the sense of unnecessary excess that causes confusion on my table. This attitude has secretly proliferated into my wardrobe and onto my bookshelves. Therefore from now on I promise to buy only groceries from a snag list, to donate my wardrobe dust catchers to a charity and to free my unread books to a local library or to my friends and family.
Motto for next month:
Let me free from the excess, from this plague of plenty.