The Red Bowl

I'm OCD.

(Well, I should say, I have OCD, but whatever...does that cancel out my OCDness?)

I have this particular order in my life, and that includes how I hang up my laundry (color coded), and how I stack my bowls.

I don't know if this is because of a neuroses, or if it's because I've always seemed to live in small spaces...

Anyway, I like things a certain way, otherwise I start feeling crazy and I start obsessing about it not being just right, or where it should be, or in the right color combination, or if it's right side up, inside out...you get the idea.

I like things to be exactly in the right place, all the time.

You can imagine what having five children is like for me (It's happiness and joy all the time, and I never, EVER get cranky about messes...Ever. *cough*allthetime *cough*)

Anyway, I also happen to love making cupcakes, and often share with my neighbors (about 79% of me giving them away is because I want to be nice, and the 21% is me just not wanting to turn into the stay-puff marshmallow Dara). So, it made sense when my neighbor asked me to make cupcakes for her niece's bridal shower. I was super excited! My first gig!

In my enthusiasm, I forgot to ask what I would be doing before I said yes. I wasn't just making cupcakes; I was catering the whole thing.

I won't go into the gritty details.

I spent a week non-stop in my kitchen, and as I scrubbed cake flour and mayonnaise out of the many places it had managed to get into, I thought about what I had done, and decided that I wasn't ever going to do it again. At least, not while I have small children. And not until I have my own crew of underlings to help me.

Anyway, the day before the party, I sent out all the food in various containers, most of which were disposable.

Except for a clear salad bowl, and a giant plastic red bowl.

I loved that bowl.

It was magical.

After the weekend had passed, and I hadn't gotten my bowls back, my OCD tendencies were eating away at my brain, and causing me severe nose bleeds (just kidding...I shouldn't joke about that sort of thing, since brain-eating OCD is something serious, and I wouldn't want to offend those who's brains have been decimated by it.). I kept thinking about those bowls, and finally had Jeremy walk across the street to retrieve them.

I walked outside with him, a black feeling creeping across my heart.

He knocked on the door, and they opened it, their faces cheerful.

"Hi!" Jeremy said awkwardly. "Do you have our bowls?"

"Yeah!" came the cheerful reply. "I'll just go and get it!"

It?

IT?

They came back with my clear salad bowl, and professed gratitude for everything, and were slowly closing the door.

"Where's my other bowl?" I gargled, my eye twitching uncontrollably.

"What other bowl?" came the innocent reply.

"The red one," I coughed. Jeremy looked at me nervously.

"Oh, I thought it was disposable..."

DISPOSABLE???

"...So I gave it...."

YOU GAVE IT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU GAVE IT? THAT WOULD MEAN IT WAS YOURS TO GIVE AND IT W.A.S.N'.T. IT WAS MIIIIIIINNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

"...to the bride's mother, so she could take some leftovers home!"

My brain folded in on itself a little and I stared into space in shock, my mouth open and drooling.

Jeremy quickly wiped my mouth off, shook me a little. I came to, and felt like hurting someone, or in the very least mowing down the meticulous animal-shaped bushes that stood mocking me in their yard while screaming, "WHAT? THEY WEREN'T DISPOSABLE? OH, SILLY ME! HA. HA. HA." *THUD*

A quiet, "oh," was all I managed.

That was almost a year ago.

And I still think about that bowl.

I bought this one, hoping it would fill the void.

But it doesn't.