Counter clutter breeds

Does kitchen counter clutter breed overnight in anybody else’s house?

I’ve been vaguely suspicious of this phenomenon for some time now and figured it was time to check it out. First I had to start with a clean slate – that is, clean, uncluttered counters. I waited until I was going to have company before I went into my usual, “Oh my god, look at this kitchen, I’ve got to do something about it,” panic mode

It took several hours but finally the only things still standing were the white pottery jars for flour, sugar, cornmeal and tea — and a row of cookbooks so old and worn the pages were crumbling. Everything else had been put away, hauled to laundry room Siberia or stuffed out of sight.

I scrubbed the tile, rinsing with vinegar to make it shine. I cut the prettiest rosebud and stuck it in a vase in the middle of the counter.

“Beautiful!” I said admiringly. “I will keep it this way forever and ever.”

The company came and went. By the end of the next day, I noted one newspaper sloppily folded where I had clipped a couple of articles, a comic strip and a crossword puzzle. Half a jar of crunchy peanut clusters. An open package of paper plates to stick under flower pots I was moving in for the winter. An empty coffee can, a box of Granola bars, a salt shaker, pot holder, rubber band, manila file folder, a couple of plastic grocery bags. And a Ziploc bag with the pieces of an antique dish the cleaning ladies thought I might want to glue back together.

Good grief, I thought. Who left all this stuff out on the counter?

I inventoried again the next day. A spray can of Pam was snuggling up to the salt shaker. An open sack of Oreos was hugging the Granola bars. Half a jar of mixed nuts was flirting with the jar of peanut clusters. There were two more rubber bands, one more plastic bag and two more file folders.

“I knew it!” I shouted. “I leave you guys for one night and you propagate and leave your offspring to clutter my counter.” I shook an old wooden spoon at them in disgust. “You have the morals of the Roman Empire,” I ended my tirade. I was reading a biography of Cleopatra at the time and was shocked by the ostentatious display of wealth she took with her on her journey up the Nile to meet with Caesar.

And in her Alexandria kitchens, she and Marc Antony one-upped each other with disgustingly lavish entertainments and banquets, mounds of provisions — eight wild boars on spits, for example.

I looked around my kitchen. OK, so there wasn’t even one wild boar on a spit — but there were those jars of peanut clusters and mixed nuts; those Oreos and Granola bars.

On the third day, more file folders and clippings, two pairs of scissors, three pencils, six pens and a phone book. More newspapers.

By the end of the week, I couldn’t remember what color the counter tile was. I knew the only solution was to have company again.

“I’m going to invite someone right now,” I said, looking around at all the clutter. “As soon as I can find the phone.”

Mary McClure lives in Lawton and writes a weekly column for The Lawton Constitution.