… pots and pans — orange, brown and green tupperware, mismatched flatware and chipped, brown plates (purchased in increments by my father from our hometown grocery store — weird, right?). These were the functional items filling the limited drawer and cabinet space of my tiny kitchen.
Not at all. My mother set me up with a set of dishes after I got commissioned from the bonus shelf (or wherever these things come from) of her local Jewel (or maybe A&P). Bless her heart, it took her months. And, bless her heart, she didn’t always remember the pattern she got the week before. So I have dinner platters for eight in a set of four, three, and one. When I was a bachelor I didn’t care. When I was married I didn’t get a choice. Still in the basement, having been resisted by four nieces and nephews when they set up housekeeping.