Last week, my boyfriend and I went to the Chinese restaurant a few shops down from the laundromat where his clothes were drying. We were gonna catch a bite to eat while we waiting, and so we strolled in and were seated. It was a buffet, so we loaded up and sat down to consume.
Being the brat that I am about Chinese food consumption, I usually refuse to eat Chinese without chopsticks. It’s just who I am. So, naturally, I’m looking around for the container of chopsticks. There isn’t a single chopstick to be found out in the open. By this time, we’ve already finished a plateful each. So my boyfriend asks the waitress for chopsticks. She seems to understand, and toddles off. So we both go up and get a second plate. When we return, there are no chopsticks to be found. By that time, I was so frustrated I just gave up. My boyfriend suggested that, since I have so many of my own at home, I should carry some with me for when these instances arise. I had decided that was a brilliant idea, and enlisted my mother in the creation of a chopstick pouch. I’m not allowed to use her sewing machine, so she made it for me while I watched and gave measurements. It’s large enough to fit two sets, possibly three, and has a flap that I can tuck inside to keep them secure. Even though I had had the idea before, I am proud of my boyfriend for his suggestion, and my mother for facilitating the creation of an idea that only cost about 10 minutes time.
I’m thinking about making one or two more, in softer more attractive fabrics. I don’t know. Perhaps.