Jar Lids & Other Instruments Of The Devil

Remember when we had strength in our fingers and wrists? Peanut butter jar lids opened easily, bottle caps twisted off with a flick of the wrist, and we figured we could conquer any lid or bottle cap that passed our way.

Not so, my friends. I spend more time now trying to open some jar lids than I do vacuuming the floor. Lids can present formidable problems, refusing to budge a millimeter regardless of how many little tricks I try or handy gadgets that I use on them. Sometimes this unmoving lid can present extreme frustration.

A few months back my sister gave me a large jar of artichoke hearts. I dearly love artichoke hearts, and my mouth watered in anticipation of consuming a few of these delectable treats. However, the energy and stress involved in breaking the seal on that lid caused me a lot of grief, so I figure I most definitely earned my right to eat those tasty little morsels.

I first attempted to twist off the lid. Hah, what an exercise in futility that proved to be. We are discussing an approximate half gallon capacity jar with a large lid, and I couldn’t even get my hand around the lid to get an adequate grip. No sweat, I figured I’d just dip the jar mouth under hot water, and then gently tap the lid with a knife to break the seal.

Well, those efforts were a colossal waste of time. I tapped, tugged, dipped, then tapped again, each time using just a little more force and each time becoming just a shade more annoyed and frustrated. I still couldn’t budge that lid.

None of my handy dandy little lid openers would cover that large lid. I didn’t have a pair of pliers large enough to put around the mouth of the jar, and I could find nothing that would work. I turned the jar upside down and banged the lid against the floor, I smacked the rim sharply with a heavy knife, I ran hot and cold water around the edge of the lid, all to no avail.

I thought with great chagrin of my arrogant youth, when I could open jar lids without a second thought. I remembered to my shame how I used to make little snide comments to my mother when she would hand me a jar lid to open that she had struggled with for some minutes, and I would twist it open with ease. Foolish youth, thoughtless comments, and now it was payback time for me.

Pride would not allow me to take the jar across the street to a neighbor, nor would it allow me to call my brother-in-law and request help. Instead, I continued to struggle with that lid for what seemed an eternity.

Eventually, the repeated pounding and smacking broke the seal, and I actually got the lid off and could indulge in those artichoke hearts. I am not a patient person by any stretch of the imagination, so this ordeal left me totally stressed and in an incredibly foul mood that even the soothing taste of an artichoke heart could not dispel.

Jar lids aren’t the only instruments of the devil that we mortals decide to fool with. I’m thinking of weed eaters in particular. I no longer will even attempt to use such a contraption; it is faster to pull those weeds with my teeth than to use a weed eater, also known as the instrument from hell. These useless tools don’t want to start, they don’t like to continue running for any longer than 15 seconds, the string disappears or knots up at the slightest provocation, and in general, I consider weed eaters nothing but heaps of worthless junk.

I won’t use a weed eater. I don’t need that sort of aggravation, but I DO need to open jar lids. Fortunately for me, I now have a better half in my life, so the next time a jar lid fixes to ruin my day, I’ve got news for it: it won’t. I’ll just pass the jar along to my better half and let him worry about this particular instrument of the devil.