In my former life [as a normal adult with a job in a city with friends and family], I was quite the happy homemaker.

I owned my own house.  If you are new around these parts, you may not know how much I absolutely loved my house.  I wrote about it HERE, but honestly.  I can’t really talk about it still or look at the pictures because I miss my life that house terribly.  It makes my stomach hurt and my throat tighten.

Don’t mess with a woman inclined to nest, people.

It was beautifully full of my stuff.  Every room decorated.  Guest bedroom was always ready, when not occupied by roommate, and was an inviting shade of green.  Pictures on the walls.  Tupperware in the cabinet.  A stupid amount of towels in the linen closet. All my serving pieces in the garage, neatly arranged. My hope chest doubling as a sofa table.  Beautiful BEAUTIFUL artwork.

And here in Nashville, I have my college bedroom furniture, my beloved big fluffy chair, and a bookshelf from school.  The rest of my furniture is in storage.  In Atlanta.

I have gone back to being a college kid.  I thought the freedom would be glorious. It’s not. I miss being a real adult with my own house and my own stuff so bad it could make me cry if we sat here long enough and thought about it together.

So let’s not do that.  Let’s focus on the funny.

For my friends from ATL who lived life with me on Woodsford Road, you are really going to be in shock and awe at this.  Yes, the Master of Tupperware, Diva of the Leftover Dish, Patron Saint of Plastic Containers, had to store her homemade veggie soup in this-

AYE CARUMBA!  A pitcher?!!?  You should have seen the terror on my face when I realized that there was no tupperware the appropriate size in the kitchen.  Because tupperware = domesticity.  In case you weren’t aware.

My friend EmCat can attest to this- when she was helping me pack up my house, I believe she labeled one box “MORE TUPPERWARE WHAT A SHOCKER”.  Because, and this is a rabbit trail, but in 1999 the KMart on Barnett Shoals Road in Athens went out of business and I purchased a 50 piece Martha Stewart tupperware set for $10 and I did not even crack that puppy open until about 2003 because it was such a prize I felt it needed to be kept in mint condition until absolutely necessary to use. [Please read that in one breath because that’s how I wrote it.]

So, all that to say, I have a lot of tupperware. In a wide variety of sizes.

Unfortunately, the aforementioned labeled box is, in fact, in storage in Atlanta.  So I’ve had to store my soup in a pitcher for 5 days.

Yep.  5 days.  And I ate every last drop of it.  Because though I wasn’t raised in the 1920s, I sometimes conserve like it.

But for future reference, I did make a note on the recipe: “Better suited for the Brady Bunch than a Singlet.”

And I made another note to myself: “Bring tupperware to Nashville.