Friday Confessions: Too shameful for words

Somewhere along the line I abandoned my routine Friday Confessions posts, which is sad because they were all so very compelling. Like the time I confessed to having "carnie feet". Many a Googler has found my blog thanks to that phrase. Astonishing really. Freaky foot fetishers I assume. Anyway. But don’t you think it’s a right jolly good time for me to start up my Friday posts again? No need to answer. I can already hear you shouting yes, by george, yes!

Now before I continue, you must know that what I am about to reveal is probably one of the most embarrassing things I have revealed up to date. Falling off the toilet doesn’t even come close to the secret that I harbor in my kitchen cabinet.

Behold!

. . . the pitiful shocking state of my recipe collection. No order, no alphabetization, no theme, no grouping. My eyes are stinging just looking at it, and don’t get me started on how sick it was to actually take a picture of this. Papers, notecards, printouts. It’s all one big pile of stinking sin.

If you know me even just a tiny teensy weensy amount, you know that I am a perfectionist. Have been since I was fresh out of the womb when I asked them to cut the umbilical cord in a neat manner. Yes I did.

I think my crime is most bothersome because it goes against everything that I know to be right and true, and yet I still do it. Organization-ness is next to godliness. Or so the scriptures say. The scriptures people! I don’t know how I let things get so out of control. Piles of anything are just not in my nature.

It was all so innocent at first, a few recipes here and there to prove to the Husband that we would eat food at some point in our marriage. Then I went through a domestic-goddess-wannabe phase, acquiring recipe after recipe online. Then I went through a homesick phase and asked my mom to write down all the recipes that reminded me of my childhood.

And six years later (because I didn’t cook or have recipes at all before I got married) I’ve got this stack hidden away in my cabinet. I add to it in secret and I refer to it in even more secret, using cookbooks as a cover. Only the Husband knows about this shortcoming of mine. He says he still loves me.

Well now you know too. I wouldn't blame you if you were disgusted beyond recovery.

I do feel liberated though. It's a mixture of feelings I have right now.

Nevertheless, this is a disaster. I can never find the specific recipe I’m looking for. The paper is splotched with oil and whatever else. It’s time consuming and agitating. It’s all just so very unseemly and improper. Not to mention a blight on the perfectionist community I claim to be a part of (I like you right there preposition).

Well, hypocrite no more. This will be fixed. I’m thinking a three-ring binder with page protectors. If you have any better ideas please do share. Share the load (recite this last line out loud slo-mo, in the very same fashion Sam did to Frodo. It will make it a heck of a lot funnier.)

Have a lovely weekend my dear little poopsies.

P.S. I just realized this was my 100th post. What the crazy. Maybe I should have thrown a party or something. Oh well.