The small rectangular cardboard box, approximately 4 x 3 x 1 inches,
sits next to the blue-flowered, broken-handled but perfectly
serviceable toothpaste cup on the bottom lefthand shelf of my
three-compartment medicine cabinet (the kind that has two smaller
compartments, each one with a flip-out mirror, on either side of the
main mirror). I love this medicine cabinet so much that I'm going to
talk about it before I say anything else about the small rectangular
The reason I love my medicine cabinet enough to write about it is that it's new, and also that before I got it I didn't have a medicine cabinet at all, not for the last fourteen years anyway, ever since I moved into this funky Bernal cottage. I've made do with a shelf, a small mirror propped on the shelf, and a couple of round baskets.
I got used to my spartan bathroom life (no ceiling light in there either) and never thought much about what I was missing until I went to the Bernal Heights hillwide garage sale a couple of weeks ago, found this cool old HEAVY medicine cabinet sitting out on a street corner with a FREE sign on it, carried it home with one hand (I had a floor lamp in my other hand, so I had to stop walking every few steps all the way home in order to put the medicine cabinet down, rest my reddened hand, then pick it up and continue on for a few more steps), cleaned it up spic and span, hung it on the wall (with my boyfriend Jack and his screwgun's help), put my stuff in it, realized how much better – in fact, how thrillingly organized - my bathroom life was about to become, and got so excited and happy it was weird.
It was so weird, in fact, that once I got over my obsession with going into the bathroom every few minutes (to look at my hair in the three-way mirror, and then to open up each compartment in order to gaze upon each item that I had placed, with great forethought, onto just the right spot on just the right shelf), it made me think about the paper towel holder in my kitchen.
God I love my paper towel holder. I love it so much, in fact, that I'm going to talk about it a bit before I say anything else about my rectangular box or my fabulous medicine cabinet.
The reason I love my paper towel holder enough to write about it is that it's new, and also that before I got it I didn't have a paper towel holder at all, not for the last fourteen years anyway, ever since I moved into this funky Bernal cottage. I've made do with just the roll of paper towels, which I sat end-up on the back of my kitchen sink, sort of wedged between the faucet pipes and the cement block that I use to hold up one end of the temporary shelf that I put there about ten years ago, to hold all my cups, because I don't have a lot of shelf space in my funky but sunny and charming kitchen, which is first cousin to my funky but sunny and charming bathroom.
After I bought the $6.99 plastic paper towel holder — a total impulse buy one day at Bed Bath & Beyond, when I went there to get something else, I forget what, maybe a potholder mitt thingie, or a hundred cheap tea candles — and hung it on my kitchen wall just to the left of the temporary cement block cup shelf, I was shocked at how much pleasure it gave me. Honestly, I was so goddamned fucking happy. Every time I ripped a paper towel off that thing, I just about broke into song. What an amazing invention. I love it love it love it.
I'm not sure I can say which I love more, the medicine cabinet or the paper towel holder. Let's just call it a tie.
In addition to the small rectangular box that sits next to the aforementioned blue-flowered, broken-handled but serviceable cup that contains all my mouth stuff – toothpaste, tongue scraper, oral gel, etc. – there is my dental floss. Above that, mouthwash! All so tidy and easy to get at AND to put away. A miracle.
(You have to understand that when I was medicine cabinet-less, my daily bathroom experience was chaotic, really nutty. I kept a conglomeration of items lumped together willy nilly BEHIND the mirror that was propped (wedged, to be more precise) between two open shelves. In order to get to my stuff, I had to either reach blindly behind the mirror and feel around for whatever it was I wanted, or I had to unwedge the mirror, set it on top of the toilet seat, use the stuff that I ended up spreading all over the counter, and then put everything back (or not), and then re-wedge the mirror.
I also had other bathroom toiletry stuff stuffed into two round baskets that sat on a lower, hard-to-reach shelf that was half blocked by a small, deep rose'ish maroon colored wicker table (dragged that off the street too, I think) that I have wedged between the toilet and the counter. (Yes, I'm starting to see a wedging theme in my life and will think about what that might mean, later.)
In the middle and righthand compartments, I've arranged my remaining personal hygiene, medical and beauty essentials onto six additional, beautiful beautiful plastic beigy-coral colored shelves, which now contain everything from my daily SPF 15 face moisturizer (that I ordered via Cindy Crawford's "Meaningful Beauty" infomercial with the special toll free "hurry up and call now to get the special ends-in-one-hour discount" number) to hemorrhoid cream, gas-fighting pills and I forget what else. It's all pretty boring but, at the same time, thrilling when placed within the context of My New Medicine Cabinet, which I will never again take for granted, adore, and can't imagine having lived without for fourteen moronic years. Ditto for the paper towel holder.
Ain't love grand? I can't wait to find out what I'm going to love next.
(And let's just fuhget about the rectangular cardboard box. I can't even remember what I was going to say about it. Besides, I've already mentioned it once before in this blog. Once is enough!)