Thursday, May 26, 2011

A Rose is a Rose

Long before the RRR huggers (reduce, reuse, recycle) overtook the world, I worked with a gal who could have been the Guru of ReU.  She was single and the youngest of 12 or so siblings. I think that by the time she came along direct parental instruction had waned.

Mom and Dad were probably pooped and decided she would figure out enough on her own by observation of older brothers and sister.Well, not so much, but she used her ingenuity and creativity to repurpose several places and items in her apartment to make them more compatible with her lifestyle. 

Rose did not cook. I don't think she even knew how to heat up water in a microwave. I stopped by her place once to give her a ride. While she was getting ready I explored her kitchen after noticing no food related impedimenta on the counters. No toaster, can opener, paper towels, knife holder, crock of wooden spoons or coffee mugs. 

I did see a saucepan full of eye make up, a stand mirror and eyelash curlers straddling the saucepan handle. Her favorite necklaces hung nearby on a banana hook. The rotating spice rack housed lipstick and mascara wands instead of parsley, sage rosemary and thyme.

Against my better judgment I peered into an upper cabinet. Sweaters, sweaters, and sweaters. Wool, cotton, long sleeved, short sleeved, cardigan and pullover all categorized and color coded by shelf and stacked up neat enough to pass Army muster. 

Lower cabinets mimicked a shoe store; drawers from top to bottom housed bras, panties, work socks, athletic socks. The broom closet stored long pants and dresses. 

Since Rose did not cook she relied on outside sources for subsistence. True to form, she remained organized and consistent. Every night she ordered take out from a different eating establishment. Monday was Chinese, Tuesday- Italian, Wednesday- sub from the corner deli, etc. 

To make the Rose list the mandatory condition was delivery. Rose got lost in her bathroom, which explains why she dressed in the kitchen- it was right inside the entrance door.

Rose always ordered the same menu item from each place and entered them on her speed dial. After a while they knew her voice and eventually just stopped wasting time and automatically delivered food to her place unless she placed a cancellation call.

The day finally came when Rose graduated to the next phase of her life. Moving was delayed, however, when  she couldn't figure out why the hose she attached to her water bed spigot wasn't draining the water out her window. Rose lived in a basement apartment. Behold the mystery of gravity.

We got an update about Rose a few yeas later. She had invsted in cooking lessons and discovered buying in bulk. She bought a walk in freezer and developed a monthly menu plan. After years of therapy she was even able to shuffle the 31 index cards of dinner recipes. You go girl!

Mama says she she is allergic to certain flowers.