Is there anything more deserving of the “first world problem” title as hard to open packaging? It’s so frustrating when we have to reach for a pair of scissors to get in to our bags of Cheetos. But my gratitude for well-sealed merchandise ends in the kitchen, when my partner chooses to only go halfway in the effort to free our hemp seeds.
Usually, the fight between plastic and man is long, harrowing, and can take with it the skin off our fingertips. But it’s always that reassuring first rip or pop that means you’re the victor, and the mother-load is almost in hand. Perhaps my partner is sending an underlying message of teamwork here, but I did not sign up to gladiator the last inch of labeling as it messily hangs limp from it’s surrender.
Honestly, I’m one of those people who likes to pour things in to jars and canisters, so that I can throw away the various packaging that pollutes my neat fridge. Is it anal-retentive? Hell yeah. But at least you can’t lose a nail from it.
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