I have a lot of plates. A LOT. Too many, really.
When I got married 15 years ago, I registered for the same dishes my cousin had registered for the year before at her wedding. I didn’t know it at the time and didn’t do it on purpose – but nobody was surprised when we realized it. See, I’ve been copying my cousins my entire life, and when faced with a wall of plates in a department store I subconsciously reverted back to the little girl who wore their hand-me-down neon t-shirts and stonewashed jeans. After all, who needs Pinterest or Real Simple when you can just copy your cool, older cousins’ style?
So a few years ago, when my cousin bought new dishes (the colorful Fiestaware that YES, I TOTALLY WANT NOW), she boxed up her white pottery with the navy stripe and brought it to my house. What a generous gift! And yet . . . some of those lovely dishes still sit in boxes on a shelf in my garage.
All those dishes – her set plus my own – won’t fit in my cabinets. Given my tendency for putting off little things like doing the dishes, however, I cram as many plates into the cabinet as I can.
When I open that cabinet, I’m reminded of the way we talk about having too much on our plates. I have too many plates in my cabinet and, oh yes, way too much on my proverbial plate.
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