For what must have been the seventh time this year, I have yet again nicked my fingers with the sharp edge of a can of beans. Our can opener is not the trustiest -- I used to love it in days gone by but it's been losing the sharp age in recent months. At some point you have to push out the cut part, and somehow even when you don't feel it, some edge or other of the can ends up cutting my fingers. Not too deep, not too painfully, just enough to make me feel shame in the fact that I as a full-grown adult ass man who should really know better, don't. That I am not the expert in opening one goddamn can of beans.
In terms of pure numbers, this is likely the most 'hurt' I've been due to any equipment or occasion ever. Aka, by body has had to fight potential can-related infections more than any other kind of infection. What a strange little world we live in huh.
I have more to say on the topics of cans and canned food and how actually they're alright if you're not feeling ready to start from scratch and how they can push you over the edge in productivity. That comes later. For right now, I've just had it with the cans. Pouches and tetrapacks rule, three cheers for the TJ's alminum pouches they sell the premade dal in. Hip hip hurray etc.
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