There are certain things in life I don’t understand. I’m not talking about how television works or how rockets can fly to the moon or why men get intense pleasure out of watching football. I’m talking about more mundane, every-day-life stuff that sometimes just plain stumps me. And frustrates the shit out of me.
Like for instance, why can I never find a matching lid for the Tupperware? I have them all in one drawer, and I’ll pull out a plastic container and what looks like the matching top, pour food into the container and go to put the lid on and – BAM! – it doesn’t fit. Like Cinderella’s evil stepsisters trying to squeeze their big ass feet in that little glass slipper, I try with all my might to make that lid fit. I plead, I beg, I make promises: “I’ll never putt Brussel sprouts in you again if you just fit!” But it never works. I try three more tops, all the while getting more and more worked up, swearing and cussing under my breath (and sometimes not so quietly) until I finally find the right one, or I just get so fed up I put tin foil on the dam Tupperware and throw it in the fridge with a “That’ll show you!”
Another thing I don’t understand is why, oh why, is there that maddening space between the front seats in a car and the middle console? I refer to this area as the Black Hole. Once you drop something down there, you will never see it again. I have dropped food, money, pens, keys, credit cards and even my Blackberry. It’s like some kind of weird purgatory – you can see the items in that shadowy realm, but you can’t reach them. I’ve tried using magazines, pens and straws – anything that is skinny – to try and push the lost items toward the pedals, but it rarely works. So now when I get in my car, I can gaze down at that cemetary of forgotten things, sometimes with longing. Like when I see a Hershey’s Kiss that I can’t get my paws on. Damn it! You’d think if we can make cars that can tell you where you are going, if you have a flat tire or if you are about to back up into something, they could seal up the Black Hole. Well, a girl can dream.
Along those same lines, I don’t understand why I can never find my phone in my purse. There’s hardly anything in my bag – check book, wallet, chapstick, tampon, a pen, and my phone. But whenever my Blackberry starts wringing, fuhgettaboutit. My little hands will not discover it. Especially when I am driving. The phone will be buzzing and I’ll be frantically digging around in my bag for it while trying to stay on the road and yell at my children to be quiet, and it will just not be there. I think there are secret compartments in my purse that I’m not aware of. When I need my phone, it scampers off into these dark recesses of my bag and hides from me. I know it. But one day, I’m going to get you my pretty!