I have realised recently I have been reprogrammed, brainwashed or perhaps been the subject of the best hoodwink of the century. Am I a new subject in the ultimate psychology experiment? Am I a living tribute to the late, great behaviourist Pavlov?
Last week I found myself in the kitchen at home, opening the second drawer down, in order to retrieve the dinner time cutlery. The 'second' drawer down? YES crazy concept, isn't it? Who on earth would use the second drawer to put the crucial everyday utensils you want the easiest access to? A previous flatmate - that's who! (I’m leaving a bit of space here for you to ponder the impact this might have on your own soul if you had to live with cutlery in the second drawer – and I really want you to think about it)
…
… (sounds of crickets chirruping)
… (sounds of tumbleweed flying past)
… have you had enough time to process it yet?
… Too mind-boggling for ya? Well - Welcome to my world of forks in a fiasco and my sorry state of sabotaged spoons!
I tried many times to broach the subject in a light-hearted and humorous way, such as purposely forgetting guest's settings at the dinner table and suggesting they find their own as they were close to the kitchen anyway... Each and every time, guests would happily go to the drawers but descend into a confused and perplexed state as they opened the top drawer to reveal the unused junk and remnant utilities usually saved for the privacy of one's lower kitchen compartments. One friend shrieked we had committed a cardinal sin, we had broken life’s golden rule – Cutlery must ALWAYS be in the top drawer.
Some even pointed out it was not only an Australian way of life but an international standard and a universal code, just as the earth always spins from west to east, and carbon is the basis for all natural life forms on earth. These things can’t be tampered with - they just ARE! In my book, this is compelling evidence that I did not live with another reasonable earthling – dare I ask, what planet were they living on? It's as if some wormhole had opened up to my apartment and I was cohabiting with some intergalactic impostor.
Back to the real point - Said 'alien’ would refuse to take part in any debate and completely dismiss the status-quo each and every time there was any suggestion of simply switching the cutlery drawer around. Even at one juncture snapping in a vicious scowl “if you dare change it, I will only move it back!" And in other, less vitriolic moods, would just explain the dilemma as one of their endearing idiosyncrasies that should be worth cherishing not changing.
Even months after the tyrant has left the building they seem to have left an indelible mark on my psyche every time I am in the kitchen.
After spending the better part of a YEAR frustratingly opening the top drawer for the cutlery to have a “what the F” moment every single time I realized I got it wrong, I’m surprised I haven’t succumbed to bouts of crawling into the corner and rocking back-and-forth for a few hours. Even while writing this I have a strange uneasiness filling my body and quite a large compulsion to scream FOR FORK’S SAKE!
While I'm a huge fan of progressive science; I can only hope that quantum physics doesn't solve too many of the current Space mysteries, so my ex roommate's parallel universe remains - just that, and I can live in hope that one day I return to a suitable state of re-conditioned satisfaction, reliably knowing where to seek out a spoon in this solar system.
