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The Cupboard of Doom.

The cupboard of doom.
I know what you're thinking, it sounds like a really disappointing Harry Potter story. But is not. 
It's actually the place I most fear in our flat. 
Although perhaps fear is too strong a word.
Annoyed by. Irked. Irritated by. 
It's like that thing you forget exists, and then you remember and it really irritates you all over again. 
It's bloody Piers Morgan.
Some people don't like their spooky attic or cobweb filed loft, for me it's the narrow cupboard just to the right of the cupboard under the sink. That's where the food containers and plastic boxes live, and the leftover containers from the Chinese takeaway, waiting patiently for me to open the cupboard door so they can all jump out at me, like a toppling Tupperware tower of terror.
It happens every time. I forget until the very moment the door swings open, but then it's already too late, a plastic tsunami engulfs my feet, and I have to spend the next five minutes trying to match up the lids and boxes to stack neatly back in the cupboard,  before I give up and just throw them back in, setting a trap once again for my future self to blunder into next time I open that cupboard. 
A few weeks ago Kat had made some lovely spicy butternut squash soup, and the next day there was just enough left for me to take to work for my lunch the next day.
I looked at the clock, I had a couple of minutes to spare, I just needed to put the soup in some kind of receptacle or container, and then I could be on my way, just in time to catch my train and maybe beat my train nemesis to the last remaining seat in that end carriage (The train nemesis situation is a whole different story for another day..).
"Now where would I find something to pour the soup into?" I said out loud to myself, looking around the kitchen. Then my eyes closed in on that little narrow cupboard next to the one under the sink, and I remembered there was a plastic soup pot in there, "that's what i need to use." I start to open the door and then I remember.
"Noooooooooo." I cry, and out falls every plastic item hiding inside, and the cupboard of despair had won yet again.   Five minutes of picking up plastic boxes later and I've missed my train. I can't say to my work colleagues I was late because of plastic boxes otherwise I'd be laughed out of the office. I just mumble something about overrunning engineering works and flop down onto my chair beaten before the day has even begun.

This week though I finally had my revenge.
It was time to pack the cupboards ready to be moved to our new house. 
I saved the plastic cupboard for last, as a little treat to myself. 
I opened the door, and as usual was hit by the tidal wave of tupperware terror, but this time I smiled. 
It could have its moment of glory. Then I picked them up one by one and threw them into a packing box, they would not be stressing me out today.

Later that weekend at the new house Kat was looking in a small narrow cupboard
"We could use this one as the plastic cupboard," she said enthusiastically "Have you found the box with them in yet?"
There were still a number of boxes in every room still to be opened, but i knew exactly where the one containing the plastic boxes was located, that was the one box I'd tracked all day so I knew exactly where it would end up.
"No I haven't seen that one yet." I lied.
Later I walked through the house and into the garage, and there behind the already empty packing boxes was a box marked 'the plastic cupboard of despair' 
I gave it a hefty kick and a smile spread across my face, and then walked out and locked the garage. 
I felt like that man in the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the lost ark, losing the ark in a vast room of identical boxes, never to be seen again.  
i knew at some stage it would be discovered and then its reign of plasticy tyranny over me would start again. 
But not today, today was my day.

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