The brilliant work of great minds has shaped and molded the world into today’s advanced 2.0 version. People such as Leonardo Da Vinci, Winston Churchill, Madame Curie, Albert Einstein, Warren Buffet and Steve Jobs come to mind all as movers and shakers who made a difference in the world with their brilliance. Peoples’ genius brought us philosophies and inventions that were never thought possible like the airplane, helicopter, solar power, nuclear power, fax machines and the Internet. (I’m still amazed by the fax machine even though newer technology has made it almost obsolete.) Brilliance is also responsible for putting man on the moon, discovering medicines that cure deathly illnesses and building robotics that perform pinpoint accurate surgeries.
With all this impressive genius and modern progress, one would think one of these geniuses could have figured out how to store Tupperware™. It’s tragic that Warren Buffet knows how to make 62 billion dollars but probably can’t find the right lid to fit a plastic storage bowl in his home.
It’s not his fault; it’s an epidemic. Seriously, I’m beginning to believe that socks and storage container lids are in cahoots with each other. One day someone is going to discover a huge cave filled with single socks and lids. Until then, we must deal with the aggravation of storing leftovers and wearing mismatched socks.
The Tupperware saga has been a life-long struggle. My mother had more Tupperware parties than average, although, quite frankly, I have no idea what the average is. I loved it, though, because she would always serve punch made from sherbet and ginger ale—delicious! Our punch bowl was busy. As you can imagine, with each party we collected more and more storage containers—truly enough to store the entire neighborhood’s left overs.
Growing up through the depression, my mom is not one to get rid of much. Her philosophy is you never know when you might need it. Thus, the woman has a Tupperware cabinet filled to the brim, even though she hasn’t had a Tupperware party in years. She’s 84—she doesn’t party much anymore. Recently, I was at her house cleaning the kitchen after dinner when I noticed there was left over salad. This prompted me to mindlessly walk toward the wall oven and look up to the looming double cabinet doors above. This is where the Tupperware has been stored and collected since 1967. As I reached up to open the cabinet doors, I stopped. My fight or flight system flashed danger—do not open those doors.
I have never—I repeat never—opened that cabinet without getting bonked on the head or in the face by a falling storage container. That’s why my mom always made someone besides her get it out. I bet she was secretly laughing when we got hit. Now that I’ve had teenagers, I understand completely and am considering moving my Tupperware into a similar situation.
Of course, the falling containers may have had something to do with the fact that I would open one side, throw in the Tupperware and slam the door quickly. No matter how ready you are for it, you never know what’s coming. I refused to open it. I decided to put plastic wrap over the bowl the salad was in and call it a day.
I don’t do much better than Mom. I keep mine in a fairly deep drawer in the kitchen, and while I don’t get knocked in the head every time I open it, it appears that the lids multiply and morph when the drawer is closed. There can be five various shaped bowls in the drawer and 17 lids. However, not one of those 17 lids fits anything in the drawer. How does that happen and what is the solution?
In trying to get a handle on this situation, a friend and I discussed the dos and don’ts
of plastic storage container protocol. We decided:
Do buy all the same brand.
Don't save mismatched containers and lids. Throw them out or recycle them. They are not worth getting hit on the head for and are simply taking up space.
Don’t add used Cool Whip, sour cream or cream cheese containers to the mix. If you must, keep only one or two. You don’t need 23 Cool Whip containers.
Do minimize the amount of containers you have. Less is more. After all, they are simply holding tanks until the food rots and you can throw it away.
Do cook less food so you don’t have left overs. Cooking less also minimizes the ability to have seconds—a real win-win.
Do wear a catcher’s mitt and mask if you happen to be at my mother’s and she asks you to get her a container out of the cabinet.
Now, I am completely inspired to go whittle my container drawer down and make
some sense of it. I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself.