Solving one of mankind's greatest problems

Forget getting into iPhones. Forget landing a man on Mars. Forget climate change. There is a bigger problem currently facing mankind, one that has plagued man for thousands of years, and, if finally solved, could radically change the way we live -- or sleep.

I am, of course, referring to... The Spooning Dilemma. And what you're supposed to do with that other arm.

Drawing by Christoph Neimann

For centuries, men have been losing sensation in one arm (and have been nearly asphyxiated by a mouthful of hair) as they attempted to cuddle, or spoon, with their partners. And I think it is high time, in an age where we have mattresses that contour to your body and can go up and down, that someone invents a mattress, or a device, to allow for proper spooning.

So, all you engineers and scientists and sleep experts, get on it. The arm you save could be your own.

The Condiment Conundrum

Are condiments clogging your refrigerator (and/or cabinets and/or pantry), taking up valuable shelf space?

Do you have three different kinds of mustard, all of them at various levels of fullness (or emptiness), which you can't remember when you bought, taking up space on the shelves in your refrigerator door?

How about half-empty containers of ketchup? And salsa? And hot sauce? Perhaps some mayonnaise? Or maple syrup? Maybe a half-empty jar of olives (which is technically not a condiment, but work with me) or some soy sauce?

(I'll wait here while you go check your fridge. Though let's get real. You don't really need to check your fridge, cause you know you do.)

Do you remember when you bought all of these condiments? Any of them? Yet when is the last time you threw away a half-empty jar of mustard... or ketchup... or hot sauce, or checked to see if it was past the expiration date?

You can't remember, can you? Why? Probably because a) "I can't be bothered. I have enough sh*t to worry about"; b) "I hate to waste food, even condiments. And those things are supposed to last forever, right?" or c) "Yeah, and you know what will happen the second I throw that stuff out? Somebody's going to want it, and I'm going to have to run out to the supermarket."

And don't get me started about spices.

(I spent hours the other day actually sorting through our spice cabinet, or at least two shelves of it, tossing age-old spices and organizing the remaining jars, many of which we had two, or more, of, alphabetically. Only to have the teenager muck it all up days later. Sigh.)

Welcome to... The Condiment Conundrum, where we allow condiments to take over our lives, or our refrigerators (and cabinets or pantries). Yet for some reason, we are unable to throw out any of them (even when we move... or die*).

Why is this, fellow Americans? I would really like to know. And do Europeans and Asians suffer from the same condiment issues? 

Please let me know your thoughts via the Comments.


*True story: My father, a bachelor for over 30 years, was famous, or infamous, for the contents of fridge, which consisted of several bottles of Champagne, a bag (or two) of Pepperidge Farm Oatmeal Raisin Cookies, cantaloupe and grapefruit halves, and jar upon jar of condiments. When he died suddenly, and I had to clean out his apartment, even though he was dead, I found it difficult to throw out all the condiments.

Does your family suffer from kitchen blindness?

Does it seem like your spouse and/or your children call your name every time they go looking for something in the kitchen, only to discover the item in question was right in front of them (or close by)?

Do they leave dishes or pots or pans in the sink, waiting for the washing-up fairy to magically appear? Or perhaps they wash a pot or a dish or two but leave several others behind (not wishing to offend the washing-up fairy)?

Is their idea of cleaning the counters to clean one or two, or just that spot in front of where they were standing or sitting? 

And when you ask them to vacuum the kitchen floor, do they carefully navigate around chairs and tables, instead of vacuuming under them, where the crumbs lie?

If you answered "yes" to one or more of these questions, your family may suffer from Kitchen Blindness, the inability to see objects, especially dirt or grime, directly in front of or near you when in a kitchen environment.

Sadly, there is no cure for Kitchen Blindness*, at least that I know of. However, sarcasm and humor (see "Hon, where's the butter?" card, above) have been known to alleviate the condition in some instances.

*Though if you know of one, please let me know.

Bathroom etiquette: A little less conversation?

The other day I happened to mention to a friend that the spouse and I often chat (often about business) while one of us is in the shower -- not unlike Doris Day and Rock Hudson in Pillow Talk. Except in our case we are in the same bathroom and there are no bubbles.



You talk to each other in the shower?! She was gobsmacked. 

Frankly, I had never given it that much thought before. It just made sense. When else during the morning (or day) do you get 10 or 15 minutes of quiet time to discuss stuff (business, the kids, the running of the house) privately with your spouse? Also, people tend to be their most relaxed and creative in the shower, often leading to a more productive exchange of information than trying to discuss matters over dinner, when you are both tired and the kids are clamoring for attention. So what if one or both of us happens to not be wearing clothing? It's not like after 23 years we haven't seen each other in the buff.

But maybe the spouse and I are unusual in this regard. Maybe most couples don't chat with each other while doing their toilette or showering, or don't even share the bathroom (at the same time). Which led the spouse to suggest I conduct a survey.

So, Do you talk to your spouse in the shower? Just click on "yes" or "no." The survey, or poll, is totally anonymous. Voting is open until 11:59 p.m. ET Friday, October 11.

Do you talk to your spouse in the shower?

Btw, while I am fine with partners chatting in or from the shower, I am not okay with people talking or texting while on the loo. That's just plain unsanitary.