Friday, 20 September 2019

Domestic Efficacy


          Mealtimes at our home had settled into an unadventurous routine of repetitive menus – again! We felt trapped in a cycle of reproducing familiar recipes just because it is easier than trying new ones and, by so doing, that we were narrowing our life experiences instead of expanding them. So, in a burst of enthusiasm for adventurous diversification, we decided to reboot our diet. I suggested we start by taking the spices out of the cupboard (out of sight, out of mind) and placing them on display next to the hob to encourage their use and inspire new ideas. However, the plan fell apart when, seeing our newly acquired spice rack on display, we concluded that it looked and felt messy, reminiscent of student accommodation, and that we were happier with our previously uncluttered theme, which we apply not just to visual aesthetics, but to life in general.
          So, with the now redundant spice rack destined for the charity shop and our resolve to vary the menu having suffered a setback, it seems to me there is a wider issue to address. By not wanting the kitchen (or any other room, for that matter) to look untidy, are we being too restrictive? Are we on course for an inevitable funnelling down of ideas, thoughts and activities? Will we end up refining our lifestyle to the point where change is shunned, habits become entrenched and creativity becomes impossibly stifled? I wouldn’t say that I lie awake worrying about all this, but I don’t want to end up with a mind that has closed its door to novelty for the sake of convenience. I do aspire to leave the door ajar.
          So, should I be leading a leading a messier life as, it is said, creative people characteristically do? Would it be a good idea to cultivate an untidy workstation, a disorganised household, chaotic admin and erratic personal relationships? Cliché has it that these are prerequisites for freeing the imagination from locked-in behavioural patterns that constrict the association of ideas and reduce the likelihood of any serendipitous spark. It’s an enticing stereotype but I don’t know of any statistical proof to support it.
          Besides, habitual behaviour has its benefits. Knowing precisely where to find your socks, outfit and breakfast stuff helps to streamline your activities. Routines help you save time and make the most of the day, enabling you to stick to the tight schedule you drew up in your head, or jotted on post-its. It’s efficient, in the same way that just-in-time manufacturing is. Surely one benefit of this is that you can free up space for experimentation and creative activity by efficiently taking care of all the other stuff. Unless, that is, you are the kind of person who bothers more about the other stuff than what the other stuff serves.
          Recently, while taking an habitual short-cut through a department store, I was accosted by a Japanese lady who offered me a sample from her newly established, in-store sushi bar. I saw it as an opportunity to rekindle a long extinct familiarity with Japanese cuisine and it fitted well with my resolution. She proffered a choice of sushi and I asked what they were. I could not follow her answers, as her accent was heavy and the ingredients were not all identifiable, but I chose one and enjoyed it anyway. “Delicious,” I said and looked around for a napkin for my sticky fingers (no chopsticks had been made available). There were none, so I dipped my fingers into what I assumed was a finger bowl – a black dish next to the sushi. The lady looked horrified as she said, in words that I did understand – “That soy sauce!”
          This business of diversifying is not without hazard.


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