Remember when I discovered that I did not have a can opener? And I was forced out into a wangdoodle of a storm to buy one?
Well, the other day, Tim said, "This can opener is a piece of crap."
"It's alright," I said.
Tonight I managed to peel off the tip of my finger trying to open a can of mushrooms. It was just as gruesome as it sounds. Dripped my way down to the bathroom. By the time I got bandages to stick, it looked like I'd slaughtered something there. I even managed to get blood down the outside of the pedestal basin. I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. I made my way out to the kitchen, wiping the floor as I went.
In addition to making a mess, it also makes typing all these darned school papers kind of difficult.
Tim and I are now in agreement. The can opener is a piece of crap.