So, if you don't know me at all, I'm getting married soon. The bridal showers happened a couple/few weeks ago, and Jill brought home a five-piece kitchen gadget set. There was a can opener--holy shit, there was a can opener.
Perhaps I should include a late preface and state that I'm a poor bastard. I'm also a cheap bastard and have never bought a can opener for more than two dollars--you know the one that I'm talking about. It's made of crappy die-cast metal, of no discernable composition (read: just plain ol' metal), and it kind of pushes into your skin when you turn the knob to open a can. It's not particularly pleasant to use, and with each turn, you're reminded of what you're doing--preparing dinner. It's work, in a small way, to use the two dollar opener, and while you're not winded when through, there's a sense of accomplishment when popping open the can of tuna, or mushroom soup, or maybe corn. All in all--it kind of sucks.
But this opener is a gift from God (or a family member)--the handle feels good in the palm, fills it out in a stately manner. Truly. Just holding it makes me feel like a person of substance. Wow. That's lame. No matter.
Squeezing the handles together, pushing the cutting edge into the tuna can does two things--it cuts through the metal suprisingly easily--just a little pop!--and it causes the cat to charge into the kitchen to paw at the cabinets, mewling for the tuna water. I turn the handle and it slices through the can's lid like--pardon me--a hot knife through butter. I'm done in four seconds. Yes, I counted.
For some reason, I'm satisfied with the can opener more than most anything else that had happened the entire day. I drain the water into a little dish and set it next to Pekar's bowl and watch him suck it down like it's a beer, the KitchenAid still in my hand. It might as well be a damn power tool. I'm reasonably sure it's the best money I've never spent.