Cock-a-doodle-doo

I bought a pitcher with a rooster on it yesterday, which is kind of baffling because I’m not really a rooster person. I don’t fancy myself a rooster lover or collector, nor have I ever set out to intentionally buy rooster embossed kitchenware. 

I honestly couldn’t care less about roosters. 

Which begs the question:  why did I buy a yellow pitcher with a rooster on it?

I bought the pitcher because I got it in my thick little head that I NEEDED something to fill the space on one of the shelves in my kitchen.  And when my thick little head is presented with a new idea, I don’t rest until the mission has been accomplished.  Previously, I had two bowls in the place where the rooster pitcher now sits.  Is perched?   I like the two bowls very much, which I bought on super duper clearance at the PX when we lived in Georgia, but their colors (sage green and a warm cranberry red), while lovely and eye soothing, did not go with the vibrant color scheme I envision for my kitchen.

I don’t LOVE the rooster on the front, because it’s perhaps a bit too country for my tastes, but I was drawn to the yellow color. And, it was only $7.99 at Marshalls.

FYI:  I put a ‘1960’s’ wash on my pictures during the editing process, so the true color is not properly represented in the pictures.

I actually tried to turn the pitcher around so that the rooster faced the back of the shelf it rests upon, but that made the handle go the wrong way, which made my brain hurt. 

I’m sure I’ll continue to fiddle with the pitcher until I drive myself to the brink of insanity, but at least the green and red bowls have been replaced with a more vibrant color, which was my mission all along.

I probably should have waited until I found something I truly love, love, LOVED, but unfortunately, that’s not how I operate.  I did, however, stuff the receipt inside the pitcher so that in the event that I find something I love more, within the next 30 days, I’ll simply return it.

You know, it’s times like these, when I spend an embarrassingly large chunk of time obsessing about finding the perfect accessory for my kitchen, I realize how uncomplicated and easy my life is.  Even though I’m a neurotic, pessimistic worrier and face the problems and struggles that generally come along with adulthood, when all I have to worry about is a yellow rooster pitcher, I suppose I should consider myself pretty lucky.

And hopelessly shallow.

And, we haven’t even scratched the surface of my newest obsession:  finding the perfect white dinnerware set.  Which is reminiscent of last summer’s search for the perfect bedsheets. 

Maybe I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.  Just after I donate some items to charity, help an old lady walk across the street and say a few Hail Mary prayers to hopefully absolve some of my egregious shallowness.

Who knew Catholic guilt could affect a non-Catholic girl?

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One response

  1. Pingback: It All Started With An Orange Pitcher | The Neurotic Housewife

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