It’s obvious to me by my title choice that I have been reading way too many crime stories lately, featuring detectives who are enamoured of their own wit in naming cases. I download sometimes up to three free e-books a day with not a hope in hell of ever reading all of them. But I do it for a couple of good reasons. One, they’re free. And two, if I can’t get past the first chapter I have a minimum amount of remorse hitting “home” and choosing another title. Because hey, they were all FREE.
As usual, I digress. I have a can opener story. I mean, come on, doesn’t everybody? It wouldn’t surprise me to find authors giving them away for free on Amazon. Get Book One of the Suspense Filled New Can Opener Trilogy Thriller! I’m a sucker for that kind of thing.
Anyway, this little black electric can opener I’ve had for many years was on sale for less than ten dollars way back eons ago. I never thought at the time what possible reasons there could be for such a low price, but I wonder if the freaking racket the thing makes had something to do with it. There can be no stealthy opening of cans in my house. Unless you want to root around in ‘the drawer‘ for the hand held quiet ones. We still have three of them I think. Pretty sure two of them still work.
As with many such incredibly cheap items, this thing refuses to die. If I’d picked up a forty dollar deluxe model it would have broken down in six months. There is no doubt some Murphy’s Law about that very thing.
With use, however sporadic, the little blade gets gooped up with the liquid from whatever I’m opening, and the little wheel that turns to rotate the can also gets grungy, as does the handle I press down to start the gawd awful wake-the-dead noise because I normally open a can only when I’m in the middle of some kind of complicated messy food prep. Like making tuna salad sandwiches. Trust me, I can make that complicated and messy. So my point is, the thing gets dirty. And although I always have good intentions of cleaning it up in a timely fashion, the task does get overlooked. Until it’s so disgusting I can’t do that anymore.
Yesterday afternoon I realized a soapy wipe was not going to be good enough this time around, so I armed myself with a pointy paring knife, dish soap, an old tooth brush, and super hot water from the sink sprayer, thinking if water somehow gets into the motor and ruins it, well it is old and cheap and who cares unless I electrocute myself later.
As I was scrubbing away and cursing the man who designed this impossible to clean piece of crap (it’s always a mans fault when something is hard to keep clean, have you ever noticed that?) the silver handle popped off and clattered into the sink. And suddenly it was super easy to wash, and the little wheel was now exposed and clean in no time. Seriously. And it all popped back together again.
It was one of those eureka moments. The piece comes off so you can throw it in the dishwasher. The guy who designed it (probably a woman) was not such a moron after all. This is the second time I’ve been dumbfounded in the kitchen this month. (Contrary to popular opinion, this does not happen on a daily basis.) My son unscrewed the top from my immersion blender so it’s easier to clean the blade half. I did not know it was meant to come apart. Well, now I know two new things. I wonder what other totally obvious things I’m missing.
This is why life for some people is a continuing exciting adventure of discovery. In which a small thing like getting your can opener cleaned up can be the highlight of your day.
Okay, so this wasn’t really a caper, and also not particularly mysterious. It’s about a kitchen utensil, so I don’t know what you were expecting. I did hint at death by can opener, and that was pretty exciting, right? And the story is free. So we’re all good.
Happy last day of April. Hope you’re enjoying the sunshine.