In 2019, I watched a few episodes of Marie Kondo’s show on Netflix and tumbled down a organizing rabbit hole. When we were preparing to list our home, we gave away a lot of clothing, books, and furniture. And then, I arrived in Virginia and began to unpack boxes. It was then I realized that I hadn’t gone through my over-the-counter medication, supplements or spices. Which means some stuff was unpacked directly into a trash bag.
As I unpack, I contemplate the state of things, a pandemic that has people hunkering down in their homes, I cannot deny that I am blessed with abundance. And here’s a short list of stuff I don’t need to buy. Ever. Again.
Candles. If the power goes out, I’m hooked up. And I can totally hook you up too. And your neighbors. And your friends. And your relatives.
Soap. Fine. I’ll stay home and I’ll be clean about it. I can hook you up with soap too.
Razors. This was a disconcerting realization. It means that my only excuse for body hair is that I’m lazy. Whatever.
Mason jars. Now that I’m in the south, maybe I can whip up some moonshine. I don’t drink so god knows how it would taste but at least I’d put those damn jars to use.
Notebooks. If the toilet paper situation gets bad, I can just rip paper out of any one of my empty notebooks. If the toilet paper supply is adequate, I could write a book that would rival Anna Karenina in length. The pandemic sitch is good writing fodder.
Deodorant. Between the razor and the deodorant situation, my pits are gonna be amazing.
Toothbrushes. I don’t even know what’s going on here.
Tissues. I personally haven’t had a tissue sighting but Andrea assures me this is something we don’t need. In fact, she’s gone so far as to say that I don’t need any “bathroom supplies”.
“What’s a bathroom supply?” I asked.
“Nail polish remover pads. Deodorant.”
I don’t mention lotion. I could moisturize Andrea and I for years to come.
So, if any of this stuff becomes scarce during the pandemic, reach out. I promise not to price gouge you unless I think you’re an asshole.