How many cooking knives does one woman need???

I’ve long joked that I have one outstanding domestic quality: I live in a house. I’ve never been very tidy or organized, or in fact even known what needs to be done when where or how — the result of growing up in a household that is the stuff of news items. Literally — there was a path through the living room from the door to the hall to the couch to the television; the rest of the floor was covered in old newspapers and magazines, paper coffee cups, books, empty kleenex boxes… junk. Often the clutter had to be moved from the chair so we could sit down (it just got set on the floor on top of the other clutter). I don’t remember my mother ever cleaning up our home or running the vacuum … I have a faint memory of seeing her at the ironing board.

I always swore! I was going to be a better housekeeper than my mother. I’ve been successful, too — of course, it doesn’t take much to meet that standard! But I’ve long felt, too, that there had to be more… if only I could find out how to go about knowing what that “more” actually was.

Well, I’m happy to tell the entire world that my house is shaping up wonderfully thanks to Marla and the Crew at FLYlady. I’ve Boogied over 200 pounds of CLUTTER from my house in the past month, giving away to neighbors and Goodwill and hauling what isn’t good enough to share to the dump. My laundry is caught up, supper is in the crockpot, and if someone knocked on my front door right now, the only thing I’d have to shift in order to have a fully grand living room is my sweater (which I’m about to put back on anyway — it’s chilly today!)

This week’s Zone is the Kitchen. Today I pulled out a silverware drawer that has needed attention for a long time — and discovered I own 1 chef’s knife, 3 butcher knives, 5 knives that I think are for filleting (I got them at a box in my sister-in-law’s yard sale), 6 paring knives, a bread knife, another serrated knife, and some half-dozen steak knives I never use. I have put all but one of each style in a box to go to a friend who often butchers his own meat.

This is kinda fun, ya know?

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