RECIPE FOR CLUTTER

I suppose my sister Lou and I were talking about how much harder it has become to keep our homes neat. Anyway, she said, "If only a person would just put things back in place when she is finished with them . . ." Her voice trailed off in one of those minor tones.

I looked at her shiny formica cabinet top and saw a jelly glass there. Nearby was a jar of peanut butter and a knife with a smudge on the end of it.

My conscience twinged. Had I left them there? I didn't remember doing so, at least that day. After a suitable lapse of time I got up to put them back in place just in case I was the culprit, and leaver-of-things-out-of-place.

"Is this the wild grape jelly Anne made for Christmas?" I asked, taking the lid off to have a look.

"I think so," Lou replied. "Taste it and see."

"Maybe I already have," I replied, still lazily half apologizing for leaving the jars and knife out of place, if I had. "You want a sandwich?"

"I'm tired of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Lou replied. "I wonder what it would taste like to put some of that jelly with some milk in the blender?"

"Sounds good to me. Where's the blender?"

Lou paused as if to think where on earth she'd stored the blender. And to give it her full attention she put the gift catalogue she'd been looking at on the floor beside her chair. "I believe it's on this side of the upper cabinets." She motioned to the right.

I took down and set on the counter top, a box of Total, a box of Granola, a bottle of Sweet Ten, two cups and saucers before Lou surmised that it must be on the other side.

On that side, down came six glasses, a box of Arm and Hammer, a can of Clabber Girl, a tin box of recipes before I found the blender.

"Have you used it lately?" I asked.

"Not lately."

"We'd better see if it works." I plugged it in, poured in some water and pushed the "on" button. Woops!

"Silly," Lou scolded, looking at my dripping face and hair. "Put the lid on it."

"Where's it?"

"Lids, lids," Lou ruminated. "Where do I keep the lids?"

"You ought to keep the blender lid on the blender," I scolded back, still wiping my glasses with a piece of paper towel which I discarded close to the smudged knife, the jelly and peanut butter, the cereal, the Sweet Ten, cups and saucers, etc.

"Look down in that bracket basket inside that door."

I took out several plastic Cool-whip lids and laid them on the counter top before I found one that looked as if it might be a blender lid. It fit. I searched for a big spoon and put several spoonfuls of jelly into the blender, laying the soiled spoon beside the paper towel roll.

Now for the milk. I didn't spy it immediately for I'm used to buying milk in a box. I removed a cellophane-wrapped head of lettuce, a jar of mayonnaise and two casseroles of something, putting them on top of the refrigerator since it was the only flat surface nearby. Soon I spied the milk, in a jug. I took it out, slammed the fridge door, poured milk into the blender, put on the lid and soon had an outstandingly ugly colored drink. I searched for opaque glasses to pour the drink into. After several more removals, found some.

By this time Lou had gone through three other catalogues which she laid on the floor when I offered her a glass of mauve jelly-milk.

"Let's go out on the front porch to drink this," she suggested, so we left the kitchen.

The drink was good in spite of the color. We enjoyed the outdoors where never anything looks out of place. We sat until sundown, just enjoying.

Eventually we went back to the kitchen to prepare a little snack before bedtime.

"My goodness," Lou looked around at all the out-of-place things. She went to pick up catalogues. I went after the cluttered counter and fridge tops, dirty knives , spoons and wadded paper.

"If only . . ." My voice trailed off in that sad minor tone.

REJOICE