The Cabinet Conspiracy

(How to Unhinge Your Partner Without Actually Changing Anything)

We have this pantry cabinet.

It lives near our kitchen like a perfectly respectable piece of storage space, tucked out of the way where no one bumps or breathes on it. It doesn’t open into a major walkway. It doesn’t threaten to slice you at shin-level like a rogue dishwasher door. It simply…exists.

And every time I open it—whether for the vacuum, contact solution, or the batteries I swear I just bought—I close it with a small tap. Not a slam. Not a shove. Just a “we’re good here” kind of nudge.

And here’s the kicker: it never closes all the way. It stops just shy of shutting. A teeny sliver of air. Barely a crack. It’s the cabinet equivalent of a parent standing in your doorway at bedtime whispering, “I’ll leave the door open just a little.”

To me, it’s a non-issue. I’m in and out of that cabinet 17 times a day. It’s not in the way. It doesn’t creak or leak or do anything offensive. It’s just slightly… ajar. Like me.

But the other day, my husband walks by and casually says: 

“Have you ever noticed this door is always open? I shut it like a million times a day.”

And I was honest. I said yes. I knew. That’s just how I close it.

But as I stood there later, walking past that very cabinet like it was an ex I pretended not to see, I thought—what if I had lied?

What if, instead of owning it, I went full ghost-hunting level denial? What if I widened my eyes in sincere disbelief and whispered, “Wait…you mean it’s opening itself?” What if I played the long game?

Let him believe our pantry was haunted.

Let him bring it up around the fire at our family camping trip: “You guys…I swear this cabinet won’t stay shut. I close it, walk away, come back—it’s open again.”

And I’d just slowly sip my La Croix, gazing into the distance like wow, that’s wild.

For years, I’d do nothing different. Just keep tapping it shut and walking away, like a little mischievous raccoon in yoga pants.

And THEN—years later—I’d finally come clean. Reveal that the haunting was, in fact, just me. Living my life. Tap-shutting the cabinet in peace.

But here’s the twist:

I realized something as I planned this elaborate, multi-year practical joke that only I would enjoy…

I don’t have the energy.

I mean, I already forgot to respond to a text from two weeks ago and left laundry in the washer for three days. I cannot commit to a decades-long gaslight.

So instead, I laughed about it.

And I wrote this blog.

And I still left the cabinet cracked open. Because I’m not trying to win a moral victory. I’m trying to conserve my energy. And also keep living rent-free in that cabinet’s little wedge of space like a gremlin with a sense of humor and no intention to change.

And that, my friends, is emotional intelligence peeking through.

It’s the ability to laugh at yourself.

To choose joy over control.

To acknowledge that sometimes, people are just gonna keep being who they are—and your job is to decide whether to close the cabinet or let it crack open and carry on.

Because in a house full of chaos, clutter, kids, and camping prep, a slightly ajar pantry door isn’t the battle we’re choosing to fight.

Unless you’re the ghost.

Then… boo.

—

Snack-sized sentiments, full-sized feelings. Follow @MoveMakerMedia for more everyday chaos and emotional clarity.