Remember when I decided to clean out and organize my hoarders-level pantry? Me too. That was crazy. And it’s still happening.
Painting the damn thing is finished, made way easier by me not doing it because Adam surprised me and handled it when I went to bed early one night, exhausted from spending a day cutting in on a freaking FOOD CLOSET because having an enormous belly in the way makes everything 10x slower. Have I tooted my Amazing Husband Horn recently? Toot toot, motherbuckets.
The shelves are finished. Let me tell you how fun it is to roll into Home Depot, wearing old sweats and a tshirt, covered in paint, pregnant as all hell, when you leave your wedding ring on the kitchen counter by accident. I came this close to faking contractions just to get someone to pay attention to me because no one was trying to assist the unmarried, pregnant hussy. An older man finally helped me find the wood I needed and cut it down for me. But the benefit is, he assumed I was in need of life help and told the cashier the board was damaged and saved me $2.50, which he told me to save for “that baby.” Now Jellybean can afford a highlighter for college. Thanks, dude.
When the wood was cut and ready to be put on the shelves, I bought contact paper to wrap them in so I wouldn’t have to sand anything or do anymore painting. It took me three attempts to do this. The first attempt involved buying eight rolls of what I thought was $3 contact paper, and getting to my car and realizing I just spent $70 on contact paper. Returned it and went to Target to try to find cheaper stuff. Bought it. Got home and realized it wasn’t adhesive. Do you know what contact paper without adhesive is called? Wrapping paper. Went back to Target, returned it, and found the correct kind. Went to check out and realized my wallet was at home. Went back home. Got my wallet. Almost ran out of gas. Filled up. Went back to Target. Finally purchased the correct gotdamn contact paper and it is now wrapped around the stinking boards and shit is no longer falling through the shelves in our pantry. Good goddamn grief on a shit stick.
In my quest for the world’s most functional pantry, I forgot that just putting all the crap back inside wasn’t going to cut it. So I ordered all the things I could from the internet to make things organized. I’m still waiting on those things to get here. Memorial Day weekend is probably the worst time to try to order stuff online because it doesn’t get here until Labor Day. And having zero countertop or table space, and limited floor space, was getting old as balls. So I put all the crap back, but not until I got rid of a ton of it. Remember the shit show it was inside that thing? I now have over two and a half shelves of free space. Suck on that.
We had duplicates of a ton of stuff that I set aside for my sisters, who are getting an apartment together soon, and an unrivaled buttload of expired stuff. Adam and I disagree on what is and isn’t expired. I don’t use stuff past the date that says something is expired, commonly referred to as the “expiration date”. Adam does. I won that battle. We also found stuff we forgot we bought, including a bulk size box of granola bars, unopened, from like three years ago.
As organizing stuff arrives over the next week, I will be finishing this beast. Keep lighting candles and shit for me. And let’s all pour a 40 out into the gutter in honor of our dead homie, the pantry. R I P, motherbucket.