It looks like I’ll have tomato slices and balsamic vinegar for dinner. Everything I want to really eat is trapped away behind walls of tinplate steel.
My can opener broke. The little wheels refused to stay on track and turned the mouth of the can into a dangerous, jagged accident waiting to happen. I tossed my broken buddy into the trash with barely a thought to this gadget that had helped me eat for almost 10 years. A few days later, I’m beside myself with remorse over how much I took this tool for granted.
Canned goods allow me to create inexpensive meals. Canned tomatoes became homemade pasta sauce. A variety of beans become my always-changing Mexi Skillet. And don’t even get me started on the joy of putting some canned tuna on Caesar salad.
I can’t have any of these dishes until I make the time to get a can opener, a sturdy one that will carry me through another decade. And this time, I will appreciate all that such a simple instrument gives me.
Now, excuse me. This tomato is waiting.