Cleaning Out the Spice Rack

Letting go of spices, for me, is like letting go of a relationship that’s past its prime. Every time I use the spice I think “This could be better, it’s gotten stale. I really should toss it and begin again.” But instead, I just put it back in the cabinet. In the chaos of dinner preparation, I never remember to write down what I will need at the time. While I remember the staples compiling my grocery list later on, I have some kind of mental block against actually remembering to pick up a spice that should be replaced, but that we’re not actually out of. My husband does remember, buys new stuff and sticks it in the front. But he doesn’t throw out the old stuff. And so, the old spices languish beside their new brethren.
Sometimes I don’t throw them away because I get sentimental. (That’s right. Don’t judge me.) I have the cheesiest looking curry container. I got the stuff at a flea market, in one of those massive bins. I was poor, the plastic spice bottle was large and it was only one dollar. I used to sprinkle it over popcorn in the dorm. I still can’t bring myself to toss it. When I look at the cartoon palm tree and sunset, it somehow ends up right back in the cabinet. I don’t cry or anything. I just can’t throw it away.