5 Things I Can No Longer Keep In My Home
The Italian candy manufacturer Ferrero SpA (makers of Nutella, the Kinder line, and Ferrero Rocher) is a confectioner specializing in the combination of chocolate, hazelnut, and, ostensibly, crack cocaine. They have created a line of products intended only to leave us staring at our chocolate-covered faces in our bedrooms at 2 a.m. and ask ourselves, in all sincerity, where things went so terribly wrong. Aside from the fact that there never is a good reason to buy Nutella in the first place, its very presence in my cabinet only ensures a several-step process in my inevitable, chocolatey, downward spiral.
- Opening the jar: “Mmmm, I think I’ll have some of this on toast with a coffee and a nice glass of orange juice. What a nice little start to my day.”
- 1/4 eaten: “I bet this would be good if I spread it on a couple apple slices for an afternoon snack. And, what ho! I was right. Delicious and simple, what a miracle product, this Nutella.”
- 1/2 eaten: “What would happen if I dipped Oreos into this? Uh oh, can’t reach that far into the jar without smearing some on my fingers. Whatever, I’ll just lick it off later. Omnomnomnom.”
- 3/4 eaten: “What a terrible day. And I don’t even have anything to put my Nutella on. Screw it, where’s a spoon?”
Yes, not a single jar of Nutella in my house has been finished any other way than in depressing spoonfuls on my bed/ couch. I cannot, in good conscience, do this to myself again.
2. Sex and the City DVDs
Here’s the thing about SatC — I have seen every episode at least four times. My select favorites (about half the series) have been viewed around 10 times. And the thing is, I am somehow capable of convincing myself, upon every viewing, that the outcome will not be exactly the same as it was the last time. I’ll still imagine Trey and Charlotte will conceive, Carrie will end up with Aidan, and Miranda will start paying attention to her kid occasionally. And when I sit down for a light session (for example, I will decide to watch the episodes with small-penis James) I will inevitably find myself, at 4 a.m., having gone through several seasons, yelling at my computer screen about how much of a pretentious fop The Russian is. I have been moved to tears when Harry proposes to Charlotte at least a dozen times — I honestly didn’t know that was physically possible before this series. Sex and the City episodes are the Pringles of the emotionally pandering chick TV-world. Once you pop, you can’t — actually, forget that metaphor. They’re addictive.
3. The Sims
Some people grew out of The Sims. Some people hit a crucial point in their transition into adulthood that caused them to understand, on a very rational level, that these babbling computer people with the floating diamonds over their heads were, in fact, not real. These “adults,” as you may call them, accept the fact that daily lives and struggles of their Sims have no bearing on their actual lives.
I am not one of these people. For example, far more recently than I’d like to admit, I had painstakingly created a family that closely resembled my own, and was taking very good care of it. It even included my grandmother and some close family friends — it was a little commune of sorts, and I loved it. And then my Father Sim set the kitchen, and subsequently himself, on fire. He died in a pixely blaze, and I cried. I cried a lot, and for a long time. I became consumed with reconstructing this happy little Sim family, and it took up a significant amount of my personal time and emotional energy. I became extremely upset when my Sim and my boyfriend Sim didn’t fall in Sim love, and I got violently angry at a neighbor Sim who was cheating on his overworked wife. The Sims is not good for me, and I must keep myself away from it at all costs.
4. “Indoor” shoes
Let’s just say that flip-flops, Ugg boots, hard-soled slippers, and any other shoe of this type falls into this category. Whether for hot or cold weather, they are the shoes that no self-respecting adult should go out and about in, but are so comfortable and convenient as to rest, indefinitely, in one’s closet. I find myself often finding excuses to wear them, telling myself that no other human with a bearing on my life is truly going to see me in them. If I’m hungover for example, I’ll throw on my Uggs and walk to the corner store for a ginger ale. But then the corner store turns into grabbing lunch, which turns into running a few errands, which turns into meeting a friend for a drink, and before I know it I catch myself in a reflective surface while out and about and I am wearing Uggs and black leggings.
For the record, let it be stated that Ugg boots and black leggings never were and never will be an outfit of any acceptable variety. Though I have, in my weaker moments, indulged in this, the Chicken McNugget of dressing oneself, I know that it was deeply wrong, and I will try my very hardest not to do it in the future.
5. Bottles of wine
There are most definitely good reasons to have wine at one’s disposal. When friends come by, when you’re making a nice dinner, when you have a nice evening of movies and snacks planned to end a hard week — they’re all good times to open up a bottle. Wine is wonderful and we should all drink it. But keeping random bottles of cheap, not particularly tasty wine around the house leads to one thing and one thing alone: Sad Gal Drinking Hour. (And nobody likes a Sad Gal.)
Things I would be doing with the wine, if I’d saved it for a nice occasion amongst loved ones:
- Eating well
- Sharing in happy memories
- Kissing (maybe)
- Falling into a contented, wine-soaked slumber
What I will be doing as I finish that wine, alone, in my room:
- Looking at ex-boyfriends’ Facebooks
- Dancing to Akon, alone, in front of my laptop
- Texting people how much I miss them
- Eating half a rotisserie chicken and a jar of Nutella
- Taking photobooth pictures of myself holding a glass of wine (WHAT IS THE URGE TO DO THIS!?)
- Blaming society for my problems
- Blogging about my feelings
I think it’s for the best, in the future, if I just buy wine on the evening I know I’m gonna drink it — or start getting more bottles that are worth saving (the few nice ones I have have had some close calls, though, so I’d better be careful).
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