Changing the toilet paper roll is no longer at the top of my list of little chores I abhor. You know the list. Everything on there is something that you do regularly and, without fail, each time you engage in it, you ask (in your head or screaming for all to hear, depending on the day), "Am I the only one who does this in this house?!" This week, my top ten list was shuffled, yet again. A new household task has been in the number one spot week after week: Opening the milk container. I cringe as I type that. The milk container. Grrrrrr.
Before you judge me too harshly (
Oh, gimme a break! you're thinking, I know), allow me to explain (though you're probably right about me being a weeny).
This morning my lovely offspring decided they wanted cereal. Easiest breakfast prep ever. Ha! When I realized we had finished off the last of the milk yesterday and I needed to open a new container,
the feelings began to creep in. I did not, however, scream aloud. That's progress, right?
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| I gathered my supplies. Yes, those are pliers. |
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It is supposed to be a simple pulling of the tab. All the adults in the house,
I'll have you know, have failed at opening this with just their hands.
I swear they use plastic infused with titanium which they then weld on there. |
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Happens every time. Tab broken off.
Now the cow is laughing at me and my blood pressure is slowly rising. |
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| Next option: a knife. The sharp one. I gave up on butter knives long ago. They're useless. |
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| I then saw open the flap, ever so gently. |
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Don't you want toast instead? How about dry cereal?
Oooh! Cereal with water or orange juice? |
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| Success. Kind of. |
Now that flap won't close and because it was ruggedly cut open, when you pour milk, it inevitably spills everywhere. And you know what that means. Having to open another
bleeping container even sooner than we normally would have to otherwise. Its a sick, sick cycle.
