My tupperware is red, not blue.

My tupperware is red, not blue.

Normally, I wouldn’t be so insistent on the matter. Tupperware is a pretty mundane household thing. One can accumulate an entire adopted family of stray receptacles over a lifetime. Potlucks that leave the hostess with unclaimed dishes, tins, and canisters. Lids that go missing and never seem to find their way back to you. And before you know it, you have a whole mismatched collection of ill-fitting lids and multicolored storage containers that you simply don’t have the heart to toss out.

That’s most people. I, however, have just moved. And I gave away my stray family of tupperware during my weeklong yard sale. Heartless… I know. But you’ll be pleased to learn I did keep one set. The red set my sister had gifted me on my wedding day.

Except for the ones I hold now… are blue? It wasn’t like it happened overnight. One morning I probably took one of the containers out of the cabinet and didn’t even realize the azure change. I have a busy lifestyle as a full-time mother of two, an author, and a wife. But still, isn’t it strange that I should happen upon a mismatched set of reds and blues some weeks ago and now I can’t seem to find a single red Tupperware at all?

I started this small investigation within my family, popping the odd question to my husband or tween children.

“Have you taken Tupperware to work/school recently?” The answers are a synonymous “no.” We’re a middle-class family, so we also have the option of plastic baggies and lunch boxes or brown bags, which my household seems to favor. It’s fair. I’m the most likely culprit for the switch up since I enjoy using them for my meal prep.

So why should something so small bother me so much? I sleep on it for a few nights, and the only tangible reason I can come up with is a gut feeling. A gut feeling that it’s not quite right. That I have some genuine cause to be suspicious.

Since we don’t normally have guests over and I’m not in the habit of being so forgetful that I’d up and replace the set altogether while under the influence… I’m left with a single outlasting hypothesis. My cabinet is a portal.

And not the kind that glows and lets you see through to the other side. But the inconvenient kind. The “one moment I place something inside the cabinet and in the next it’s gone—vanished, replaced with something else entirely.” Except in my case, the replacements are nearly identical, if not for two of the containers. They’re now only half the depth I’m used to.

That detail stuck out to me most obviously. After making the same portion with the same ingredients for a weekly low-calorie sweet potato pasta recipe, I dumped it into the container only to find I didn’t have room for the second half. I went as far as to double-check all my measurements just to be sure!

I feel like I’m on some reality TV “prank the housewife” episode where they see how long she’ll go along with the joke until she says something. I’ve been monitoring the other dishes more closely than usual as a result. It’s kind of a pointless hobby, but can you really blame me?

One night—as the husband is out and the kids are preoccupied with a slumber party at a friend's house, I leave a note in one of the Tupperwares. It simply reads, “Hello. I think we’ve been trading Tupperware. Has my red set found its way into your house? I currently have a blue set in my possession.” I’d thought over the wording multiple times. I didn’t want to come off as overly familiar, and I didn’t want to outright demand my containers back—even though it would be nice. I did however worry that the tone may have been reminiscent of a ransom note.

Days pass, and I check the cabinet a few times a day when I remember. The bin stays untouched. Neither my kids nor my husband pay it much mind. Probably assuming it’s a note I’ve written to myself. I do occasionally take on odd habits. But as the mundane threatens to reclaim my little bubble of curiosity, I begin to lose hope. Until one night, when I’m busy cleaning the kitchen after a dinner and get-together with some book club friends, I open the cabinet to find three extra Tupperware—green this time—and a note.

“I’ve been wondering where these have come from :) ” With a little smiley face drawn into the corner.

I’m so elated that anyone even wrote back. I find it hard to contain my joy! My yelp of success is explained later to my friends as an unexpected text from my writing agent, some work promotion to get them off my back. I don’t even mind that the containers are green. But it is curious.

The notes—of course—continue. I go on to find out that this woman is color blind and that I’m not her only Tupperware donor. That she’s been receiving stray Tupperware for years, but I’m the first that's ever written to her. That she lives in Columbia but speaks English as her second language, and that sometimes, when she has too much Tupperware she just sells it—hoping it will find its way back to its owners.

Our note passing inspires other housewives or husbands to join. And soon, we start passing along more than just Tupperware. Snacks from across the world, things that won't spoil, drinks like cans of soda—though those don’t always do very well if there's a significant change in elevation—cartons of juice, even books and journals.

I currently hold one of these shared journals at this moment. This is my story contribution. It’s my hope that whoever opens their cabinet to find this journal next, your experience is just as magical and culturally insightful as mine has been!

Cheers,

The Tupperware Housewife.