Satisfaction Guaranteed?

One of the things we did this weekend (very spontaneously) was reorganize parts of our laundry room.

It was one of those snowball effect things...you know, where you start with one little bit, and the next thing you know you're into a whole house rebuild.

Okay, so maybe that's taking it a little far, but I didn't expect making room for my new crock-pot to expand from the kitchen, to the pantry, to a wall cabinet, to a utility closet, to the basement... or for DH to get involved. But the next thing I knew he was right there in it with me.

We did good. Not so much with the disposing of stuff we haven't used (there was surprisingly little of that), but by the condensing of like items, and moving to alternate locations such as the basement (for the less used items), we managed to create a fair amount of space. Space enough in the pantry for not only the new crock-pot and the little dipper it came with, but the old crock-pot as well, and still have extra room remaining. We were also able to open up a couple of shelves in the utility closet.

It was very satisfactory to take the time to consider what we have and how it could be stored better, or if it should be moved to an alternate location based on lack of use.

One of the few things disposed of was a wedding present (from almost 6 & 3/4 years back - this is important to remember). On the morning of our wedding, my high school bff's father came by the house with a nicely wrapped box. And in that box was a six-pack of prune juice. What's that you say, that's a strange present? Why yes. But like many strange things, there is a story attached.

One day (I believe we may still have been in 9th grade, it was early in our friendship because this went on for years), my bff and I were on the phone as teenage girls do, and I mentioned I was thirsty. So my friend went to the fridge to see what she had, and there happened to be a bottle of prune juice (of course I couldn't drink anything in her house being on the other end of a phone line, but for some reason this struck us as rather amusing). Her father happened to be in the kitchen to witness the shared amusement over prune juice, and so on a regular basis when I was over at their house he would make a point of offering a nice glass of prune juice.

And that's why we had an almost 6 & 3/4 year old six-pack of prune juice in the pantry (still in the box in which it was given). It's a great memory, but even I with my pack-rat ways, had to admit the memory wouldn't go away if I disposed of the evidence.

And no, we didn't open any of the cans to see if they were still good. Ick.