Last night, I sliced my finger while trying to pry a partially opened lid from a can of kidney beans. For whatever reason, our can opener skips sections of lids (but only on some cans), and I end up having to use some sort of utensil to bend or rip it the rest of the way off. Unfortunately, last night, I decided to use my finger. Not so smart on my part. Cue the spilling of beans in the sink, and the stream of curse words flowing out of my mouth.
People who know me know that I spend a good chunk of my life losing battles to various inanimate objects. Ikea bookcase? Lost. Plastic packaging of any type? Also lost. Sidewalks, walls, doors, stairs, floors? Lost x 5. It is a constant source of aggravation for me that I am on the losing end to a hunk of cardboard, but there you have it. It is of course, the object’s fault. I am the innocent party in all of this.
It drives DH nuts that I blame the offending object. He lectures me about it extensively then offers to “take care of” said object. Last night was no different. Until I came home from the wildflower walk and was greeted by this hanging from the door:
DH was true to his word and made sure that “the can opener would never mess with his woman again.” Even Bug had gotten in on the action and pounded it with a hammer. I am aware that DH did this to prove a point of how stupid/silly it is of me to overreact the way I do, and yes…this was duly noted by me. But now, I have no can opener.