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My life.
Something as simple as opening a can of corn can turn into something so meloncholy. I find myself writing a depressing movie in my mind.
A bright yellow No-Name can. I fumble clumsily with the can using a can opener that has been around forever, but I'm not quite sure where it came from. I had a really nice can opener once. R. and I were picking out things we needed for our new apartment. There was a really nice brushed metal can opener. I'm sure they didn't advertise it as brushed metal because that doesn't really sound appealing when you are describing a can opener, but it was a really nice looking little can opener.
R. frowned about the price. After all, having the shitty job of cancer patient really didn't bring in much money. We had happiness though and all the time in the world, so we thought, maybe not so much time in the end. After some words back and forth over the look and feel of this can opener, it was mine. All mine.
I couldn't wait to open my first can with it. Life was so simple, yet somehow complicated back then. To be excited about a can opener, I can only imagine now. I opened the first can, surely just to test it out. I really had no interest in the kidney beans inside, but I just had to test this brushed metal beauty out.
and it was crap.
The paper can of the label tore and scrunched itself up into the gears of the can opener. The slimy kidney bean juice then spilled out of the can, landing all over the counter and myself. I could hear R. hollering from the other room, asking if everything was okay.
and I lied.
It's fine. This can opener is great, thank you so much!
That was the shittiest can opener I have ever had to use. I used it for a long time, mostly because I couldn't bring myself to admitting that I was wrong. Somehow we ended up with the can opener I now have and I stopped using the brushed metal beauty. I never got rid of that can opener though. I kept it for years and years. I guess that would make me a Hoarder of some sort.
Tonight I opened a can of corn and thought about that brushed metal can opener. I marveled at how well this can opener is still holding up, even after six years of use. I thought about R. and how he didn't make me feel stupid for wanting that can opener so badly in the first place, and I missed him like that. I don't miss the late night wake-ups, the falls, the ambulance that had to transfer him to his appointments, his appointments, his chocolate milk addiction even though it made him fart the smelliest farts I had ever smelled in my life.
I dumped the corn out into a bowl, dropping the lid in the mixture, of course because I was never good at cans. I'm not even that good at cooking. I made a meal of meatballs and corn over rice. Very odd mixture, but the texture is amazing. It's all about the texture. I could never serve this to anybody else, but for us it works.
It's okay.
and that was the sad movie that played through my mind as I made a meal of meatballs and corn over rice.
I need a hobby.
