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Scoopy Spoons

Scoopy Spoon

The time between B getting a job offer and him moving was about two weeks, and in that time he had to pack up two years worth of items from the house. For the most part during that time we tried not to talk about “us”, because there was so much to do to get him moved that we didn’t need the distraction. One thing we argued about was the sugar bowl. I’ve generally put artificial sweeteners in coffee, partly because I’m hypoglycemic but mostly because I’m vain about my waste line, and have never needed an accessible sugar container. B, whose frame makes super-models feel fat, has never needed to worry about such things and enjoys healthy scoops of sugar in his coffee, so he put his sugar container with airtight seal and scoopy spoon on the kitchen counter. Eventually we compromised and used a half-sugar/half-Splenda blend in the sugar, which allowed enjoy our creamy sugary¬† rush in the morning (and then have coffee…). When he was packing up, I pointed out that he hadn’t packed the sugar container. He’d done it on purpose because that’s where it lives, but it was his and it really had to go with him to his new home. It didn’t take long after he’d left for me to realize I really missed having the sugar right there on the counter. Every morning I had to fetch the Splenda from the pantry shelf around the corner, which was annoying. I lived with it, but I wasn’t happy about it. So while I was grocery shopping in uber-Mart, I decided I had lived without for too long and it was time to replace them.

Here’s the thing about replacing something you were perfectly happy with: all potential replacements are now measured against their now perfect predecessor. This one is too big, that one is too small, and why did they put handles on it? Granted, uber-Mary only had four or five models to choose from, but all of them were very meh. Eventually I settled upon one, but there was a problem: none of them had the convenient scoopy spoon for scooping the sugar into the coffee. B had a scoopy spoon that very naturally fit in the latch to the container. Not only did they not come with scoopy spoons, but I couldn’t even find where in the store they sell scoopy spoons. As I searched for the elusive scoopy spoon, I started getting more and more frustrated and frantic. Why did I have to find a new scoopy spoon? I liked the scoopy spoon. It was a great scoopy spoon.¬† It was a perfect scoopy spoon. And now it’s not here anymore and I don’t know why it had to go; why did the scoopy spoon leave?!

About that time I realized I’d crossed into the metaphor zone.

I’ve tried really hard to not be a giant kill joy to my friends ever since B left, and I’ve done my best to try to not let B know how hard this has been. Most times I think I do okay, but some days I slip a little. I think the thing that B taught me is that I am not an island, and I really do need someone in my life. I find that I’m trying to return myself to the way I was to get through this, only to find out I don’t enjoy who I used to be anymore. What scares me the most is that I don’t know how to fix this; for me to move I have to give up everything I’ve worked towards for the past five years, but for B to move he’d have to give up what he’s worked 15 years for. The status quo is terrible, but all other options may be worse. It’s an impossible situation.

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