There are two basic components to putting on a good dinner: 1) Taste, 2) Presentation.

I basically have the taste part down, most of the time. It’s the presentation where I struggle a little.

I admit that I have a certain penchant for dishware, serving bowls, and pretty little spreading knives. I own, for my small kitchen, probably far too much of this sort of fluff. I have a weakness for Polish Pottery. My heart aches for that new Wilton Armetale vegetable griller. I look for any excuse to get out the little vintage olive dish and the compartmentalized deviled egg tray.

That said, by and large, my presentation is not only poor, it rather stinks. On a regular night at home, my husband and I serve ourselves from the stovetop, into whatever receptacles we can wrangle that are relatively clean. We then eat in front of the television, and I watch as he precariously balances his plate and salad bowl on each knee while he sits in his big chair. It is much like watching a clumsy ballet, seeing him try to accommodate a fork, napkin, and knife, while avoiding flinging lettuce to the far reaches of our living room. I suppose TV trays would be a worthy investment, but where’s the fun in that?

When my friends come to dinner, I push the papers and books and screwdrivers and bits of cat food to one end of the kitchen table, and serve my guests at the other end. They may be cutting with my wedding flatware, on my painstakingly selected stoneware, but the view is of IRS documents and last month’s magazines that haven’t yet been read. Mom, I apologize. I know you taught me better than that.

Why, why do I crave beautiful kitchen furnishings, if I can’t feature them properly? It is a sickness, a rebellion, a tribute to Attention Deficit Disorder. I like ducks! Let’s go ride our bikes! It is akin to my refusal to buy stamps, no matter how much I love letter writing and receiving, no matter how much I want to clutch handmade stationary like this to my bosom and weep.

But it doesn’t stop me from browsing The Bayleaf, wandering through Weavers, loitering near the linens. I comb the Goodwill and the Social Service League Thrift Store for coffee decanters and wine glasses like a woman crazed.

Recently, I made a wall-mounted “mail center” in our kitchen in an effort to keep the table clear of debris, but the result is a packed mail center full of expired pizza coupons, and table covered in old pay stubs and IRS documents.

Anyway, what I want to know is this:

A) How do you keep your kitchen organized? I had a friend ask me the other day if I knew of any “kitchen inventory software” and I almost fell off my office chair. I thought he meant tools and dishes, but he meant foodstuffs, pantry items, etc. Either way, the concept, to me, is akin to that of wearing live animals as hats.

B) What are your guilty kitchen sins, like my penchant for buying beautiful kitchen servingware that will rarely, if ever, see a proper display or usage?

Please tell me I’m not alone.

Thank you for letting me get this off my chest.

Coming up: A recipe that DOES NOT INCLUDE BEEF. It is not, I repeat, it is not the apocalypse.