Alien Abductions and DYMO Labels (Kitchen Reface Project - Phase I continued)

So, as I (Excuse me - I mean "Alien-Clone-Nan") continues the Kitchen Clean-up, I'm reminded of my Childhood Trauma (And Gawd-Knows, that's what BLOGGING is all about, right?!!):

Funny story: When I was a kid, Mom and Sis would go on these "Organizing Frenzies" in the house. Keep in mind that mom was always exceedingly anal-retentive and organized while I was growing up (things have changed, significantly, over the years!)

Mom was also *very* fond of her Dymo Labelmaker (You remember those plastic sticky strips with the raised letters? The ones that NEVER stayed stuck?!! Yeah, THOSE!!!). So mom and Sis were tackling the pantry one weekend - in their typically frenzied fashion (Everything they did together was ALWAYS frenzied!). Emptying everything, sorting, tossing, freakin' alphabetizing and putting little Dymo stickers on the fronts of each of the shelves, right? "CEREAL" "CAN VEGS" "SOUP" blah-blah-blah.

Somehow or other, I managed to coin a term (which "stuck" over the years!): "The O-Word" Whenever they'd do sh*t like that, it was like: "Oh no! It's the O-WORD!" and I'd head for the hills........ I mean, I couldn't BEAR to be around while all that was going on since they'd invariably find *some* need to screech at somebody! Or else- Gawd-Forbid -ask me to help or something! Ohhhhh nooooooooo!!!!!!!!

*This* particular apple fell nowhere near the tree. Not even the same orchard!

So anyway, after they were done with sorting and alphabetizing and labeling, I would ALWAYS make it a point to take, say, a can of beans and put it on the "CEREAL" shelf...

Yep - That's the kinda kid I was! (Still am, in fact!!!)

I'd get kind-of a sick thrill when (from a distance, of course) I'd hear my mother shriek "Who put STRING BEANS on the CEREAL SHELF????!!!!"

Ditto the Linen Closet (Nothing was spared the Dreaded Dymo!). "KING SHEETS" "PILLOWCASES" "TOWELS"

To be fair, a Dymo Label is what resulted in Sharon and I becoming "BFF." I lived at 898 M***** Ave. (It said so, quite clearly, on my Lunch Box!), and Sharon lived at 998 M***** Ave. (her lunch box was bereft of a DYMO label). She was new in our school, and when she saw me with my DYMO-festooned lunch box, she took that opportunity to introduce herself "You live at 898 M*****? I live at 998 M*****!"

The rest, as they say, is History............

So anyway, this "O-Word" stuff is very Foreign to me, and the fact that I have endeavored to address some of the - ahem - Org- Orrggn - Organzsh - Or-gan-iz-a-tional (There, I said it!) Issues - willingly, even - is quite disconcerting!

Is this what I've been reduced to?!! AAAACCCCCKKKK!!!

Yep. It's freakin' Friday Night and I'm about to head-out to the freakin' garage to "organize" some pantry shelves. I am SUCH a freakin' Party Girl!!! (Kill-me-now!!!!)