THE CONTAINER STORE A new store in the mall promises containers for every purpose. Shelves upon shelves of boxes, bins, and baskets, tinted jars and shiny canisters to store everything in our lives and then some. Such a clever concept—makes me want to buy new stuff just to fill those hungry containers. Maybe someday they will sell just the right vessel to store our thoughts and emotions in safe and accessible spaces. For playful thoughts, tanks and bowls to display like tropical fish their gay frolics. For darker notions, sturdy cages of glass and steel to hold them fast while we study their motions. Don’t worry about losing important memories when we have file cases of fine-grain oak or mahogany to store them securely by subject and date against dust, mold, and the ravages of time. To show off our finest thoughts and feelings— that first love perhaps or the lost cause we once fought for— trophy cabinets in the living room when company comes. For troublesome creatures that gnaw and consume us— hate, jealousy, and greed— killing jars in matching designer sets. And for all the mournful memories never to be forgotten tasteful urns inscribed with verse perfect for the mantel.
WHERE DO I PUT THIS print so it picks up the color of the sofa and makes me look like I know a Matisse from a Picasso? Where do I put this bed so it will catch the morning light then catch me at the end of day? Where do I put this quaint emotion that no longer fits the decor? Where do I put this ugly thought so I don’t have to look at it? Where do I put this unforgivable thing so I won’t bump into it all the time?