Often, it’s about the search itself and the things you learn along the way

S

ituated somewhere in the kitchen right next to one of the meticulously arranged and partitioned silverware drawers, is the infamous “junk” drawer. We all have one. Except that’s not what it really is. It’s actually a Lost and Found.

Anyone who questions my ability to save-it-just-in-case has never opened that drawer. Once you’ve seen it you will readily realize that not all “Lost” is “Found,” and it’s certainly not junk.

That drawer is strewn with a treasure trove of items: buttons; earrings both with and without their backings; pens, most of which don’t work; paper clips; rubber bands; screwdrivers; and the scissors you begged your kids to put in its proper place (and this drawer isn’t what you meant).

That’s not all. There are too many unmarked keys of all sizes (is that the house key Shari gave me in case someone had to get into her condo?), plus the requisite hardware fittings to the sink disposal, and motley screws and washers (none of which match). Then there’s the remote to Grandpa’s recliner chair plus numerous batteries (both new and used; how can you tell?) rolling around and lending the necessary sound effects.

Similar to the unmatched socks in the boys’ sock drawer that are clean, bored, and lonely, nothing matches anything else. Think single hair clips, at least one cuff link, a pretty mitten in pristine condition, and a baby’s sock that just needs to have the lace reattached.