By the end of this read, some women may starkly disagree, and others may think I am borderline obsessed. However, I hope a significant section relates!
As women, we fight the norm every day (at least in our minds) that we don’t solely belong to the kitchen, and yet when your husband tries to help and keeps a utensil where it shouldn’t be, it irks us.
Some of us probably make a face, and others like me try to hide it because it risks that he may not even help me then. The whole point is once we get used to orderly maintenance of our kitchen space, it becomes akin to a sacred space that is supposed to be the way it is.
Wake me up, and I will know where I have kept the noodles, from where to refill the salt. Instead of my food items and kitchen essentials, I have set things in a specific order I remember.
So the following day, even half asleep, I don’t put salt instead of sugar in the tea.
As everything stays set, gradually, the dust starts settling in too. The windows I have kept open for a fresh whiff of air also bring along these thousands of tiny speckles that layer up against my containers. I SEE THE DUST SETTLE IN when I pick one up to take out the lentils. My laziness. overpowers my dormant urge to take a cloth and wipe it. I tell myself I will do it on my day off –mostly likely the weekend, which I dedicate to my dusty racks and container lids.
While that is my weekly chore, I have a daily ritual (for lack of a better word) to clean my kitchen top and marble slab every night. When my mother used to clean our kitchen slab, I filled the mug of water from the sink and handed it to her. She scrubbed off the stains and did it very late in the night because we did not have a fan in the kitchen back then, so the burner needed to be dried all night to be used the next day. I was not fond of this activity because I refused to understand what she enjoyed so much about it that she took so long to clean it. And look at me, years later, penning down a whole article on it!
Today, no matter how close my kitchen towel is, I instinctively clutch on my top/pants first and then wipe them off clean on the towel. Do you too?
Cleaning my steel gas burner, scrubbing off every stain off it and the tiles behind, using the citrusy soap to make sure it doesn’t smell, I apply most of my energy to make it spic and span. Or should I say reenergize? I could be tired at the end of the day, but cleaning out these stains makes me feel better. It serves as a conclusion that this day in the kitchen has ended. The next morning, when I make the first tea, I feel refreshed. On days there are no stains, I just
wipe it with a wet cloth.
I get into such detail about my kitchen cleaning routine because of how it makes me feel. I reclaim this space; I erase the chapter of food cooked today and, at the back of my mind, already prepared for what I will be cooking tomorrow. Although it is the end of the day, it does feel like a headstart to the next.
It does feel like decluttering my thoughts. I take this time to myself, sometimes even performing a little jig between the sink and the slab. I calculate my productivity for the day and wonder what has been my cause of botheration today. It makes me feel lighter. The final swipe of the mop that takes out all the dirty water, that part feels like closure.
At this point, I may sound obsessed about the cleaning technique, but if you think about it, it does give you a sense of control over having done things your way. At least acing it at cleaning, even if you have forgotten to put salt in your dish.
Woman, you may not belong to the kitchen, but don’t you like to have it your way?
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Writer by day, an overthinker by night. I let my thoughts flow through my writing. As a definite misfit, I let my words speak louder than my actions. Welcome to my journey of sailing through emotions and experiences, with words as my paddles.
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