Look, I know we’re in a very divisive time right now. It feels like everywhere we look, shit is falling down around our ears.
But I’d argue there are some simple things that can bind us together and help us see the good in the world.
I’m not talking about puppies or people saving babies from burning buildings. I’m talking about the junk drawer.
Seriously, is there ANYTHING more universal? I don’t care your color or gender or creed, somewhere in your house you’ve got a drawer crammed full of shit.
My junk drawer is WILD because you never know what you’re going to find in there. I go in looking for a screwdriver or a AAA battery and I end up discovering a cache of long-forgotten gift cards for restaurants I wouldn’t set foot in if I’d just gotten rescued from a POW camp.
I think the junk drawer scratches some base itch, that hunter-gatherer instinct that has been carved into our neural pathways since we were drawing on cave walls. There’s a bit of thrill, isn’t there, stalking our prey through the vast Serengeti of phone chargers and broken pencils.
Why did I save these 13 packets of duck sauce? I have no idea, but if I find myself in the end times, you’d best believe I’ll be squeezing their contents onto this unwrapped plastic spork and spooning it into my gullet.
Or maybe our junk drawers are the manifestation of the chaos we secretly desire. In a world where everyone is urging us to arrange our lives in little boxes—budgeting our money in spreadsheets and time in our calendars—we want a little bit of uncertainty, a little bit of danger. Our junk drawers are the one place where we permit ourselves to say “fuck it, here’s a Livestrong bracelet and a chip clip and a half-used book of stamps and they all live here together now.”
And you know what? The junk in the junk drawer doesn’t give a shit. The needle nose pliers aren’t mad that they deserve to be hung up in the tool shed, and the 3 unopened decks of cards aren’t trying to banish the bowl I bought at a head shop and used like four times and never cleaned.
They’re all just mingling together, even if they don’t belong. They’re just existing in chaotic harmony.
We can learn a lot from the junk drawer, I feel. Just saying.
I Don't Belong Here. 