Portrait of a Junk Drawer
By Lela Davidson

As a kid I once opened the wrong drawer at a friend’s house. Instead of the spoons her mother had asked for, I found a broken ruler, chewed pencils, and a padlock splattered with paint.

“Junk drawer,” the mom said. “Everybody’s got one.”

What a relief. We had a drawer that held hair bands, restaurant matches, and inkless pens. I’d assumed this was our family’s particular shame. Learning that other people suffered the junk-sickness was comforting, but I wanted better.

When I moved out on my own, I maintained my own junk drawers in apartments and houses across the county. All the while I dreamed of an organized space with cubbies for keys, picture hanging hardware, and miniature screwdrivers. 

I’m not quite there.

We have two junk drawers now: his and hers. His catches manly items like lighters, electrical tape, and the occasional nut and bolt. Mine is for the stuff of daily life. I open it no less than ten times a day and I organize it over and over in my continuous effort to get it to close properly.

First, I root out garbage because trash gives respectable junk drawers a bad name. I don’t need an old church program any more than last May’s third grade spelling list. I toss cardboard boxes and brochures for $45 bottles of acai berry juice. Of course. not all trash starts out as such, but is rendered useless over time. What good is $3 off a car wash in 2004? Was I planning time travel? I find idea notes for stories scratched off on index cards: Red Explorer-leaf pile playhouse-childhood dream with circus rat. Huh?

Some things inspire guilt, like my daughter’s crumpled artwork. While the first born’s early masterpieces hold a place of honor in a plastic tub somewhere, the second child will surely need art therapy later. There is the Scalpicin I bought before I realized the itchy scalp really was lice and not just some other irritant that, God forbid, the neighbors might mistake for lice. I debate where to put the telephone number to Poison Control (in case I splash nail polish remover in my daughter’s eye again). 

Then there are essentials.  I can live without the nutritional information for McDonald’s and Starbucks but not my bent and faded Weight Watchers Points Counter. That stays. Also, Post-its, Sharpies, tape, and paper clips. These are must-have supplies in a well-stocked kitchen.

I finally reach the bottom of the drawer, only to find that uncapped pens have created inkblots that have me peering deep into my psyche. Not good. The ink needs covering up—quick. Back into the drawer go immunization records, pencils, candy, scissors, and erasers. Back in for binder clips, thumbtacks, and take-out menus. 

Done. One little spot is relatively organized and I feel lighter. Though my drawer may not be perfect, it gets me through the day. And it shuts—for now.

Which is more than I can say for the silverware drawer.

Lela Davidson’s award winning column, After the Bubbly, appears monthly in Peekaboo magazine. When she’s not writing, Lela is hard at work re-organizing her sock drawer.  Find out more on her wildly entertaining blog, www.afterthebubbly.com.