Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Those Pesky Tupperware Lids
That's what I should have said to Nancy when she broached the topic of Tupperware lids, "Well, where did you put them?" Only the knowledge that she would have replied, "In the cabinet where they damn well belong," prevented me from posing this apt query.
To be fair, a certain degree of missing-Tupperware-lid culpability may rightfully fall on my shoulders. I take my lunch to work in Tupperware containers and sometimes have neglected to replace the lid once I have eaten. At work, I may have a number of orphaned lids - I'm not saying I do have, only that I may. It's very hard to ascertain exactly what is on my desk at any given moment.
Also, some of the lids - as Nancy conjectures - may be in the chicken coop. Leftovers no longer fit for human consumption are still tantalizing treats to Sorche and Loretta. I often employ the lids as little "plates" when I set out last week's broccoli and rice or whatever for their delectation. Subsequently, the chickens scratch wheat straw over the lids, concealing them from view. Now in fairness, Nancy should hold the chickens at least partly to blame, but does she? She does not. It's all my fault that the chickens are sloppy eaters. You see how I am treated around here, and yet I endure without complaint. A saint, me.
Nancy - and I cannot fault her in this, for she is a fine woman in many respects - is completely irrational where Tupperware is concerned. I do not know why this is. Perhaps as a child she was berated unfairly for the loss of Tupperware. I believe Freud has written on this. Tupperware Retentive is the term he uses. To show you how bizarre her thought processes are vis-a-vis Tupperware, she says when I go out to the coop to look for missing lids, I should also look for missing bottoms. Now this makes no sense. If we already have a shortage of lids, locating more bottoms will only exacerbate the problem. My solution, simplicity itself, is if we don't have enough lids, to start losing bottoms until we come out equal again.
Alas, I do not even dare put forth this eminently practical solution but go out and look for missing lids, covered as they may be with wheat straw and bird poop.
I love her and I must put up with her foibles, however odd.