Sometimes, in my life, I find myself in situations where I have to face to quite challenging performances: for example, try not not to insult the courier who about three times per week asks for my name to save it in the database, or try not to insult the people at the petrol station who propose me every time to do the card for the collection of the points (that sooner or later I should deign myself to do), or try to remember to put the coffee machine off before going. During these days, besides these three challenging performances, another one was raised, that it’s not 100% new but that – already aware of the fact that when I try, I fail – I always try to avoid: using the tin opener, in this case to open a tin of coconut milk.It seems to me logical that coconut milk’s tins are not findable in tins like the ones of tomatoes, the intelligent ones, which I was always used to in my life, with the tab, no, but of course in those gawky that should be retired from commerce, that you have to open with this in-my-opinion-hateful object who everyone of us duly has at home but that everyone of us rarely uses, i.e. the tin opener. I was, anyway, propositive, because that day I could even recognize which object the tin opener was (even if my previous attempt to use it didn’t give any results, given that I didn’t even know from which side it was supposed to be twisted). Back in Italy I once learned how to use it, but our tin opener here looks really different, I don’t know…
So I had to endeavor. I tried to prick the tin with some scissors. With a knife. With the kitchen stone to sharpen the knives. My tin was starting to get a suffering turn, but not enough yet to decide to make ooze some coconut milk, so I thought about a hammer, but I didn’t have enough will to wear my shoes and go in the garage to search for a hammer.
I had then the idea of the century; I took my tin and, with my socks on, I went out on the steps outside the house. That is, I imagined they were made of stone, and I hoped that starting to hit the steps vehemently with the tin, this would at least explode. Nothing, no way. So I began to make it fall on the steps – gravity force, increase of Newton, it should have worked – but still nothing. Then another genial idea came: in the center of the garden we have something that I can’t describe properly but I try anyway; imagine a small round lake, but without water, and instead of the water there are stones. Our small lake of stones is surrounded by bigger stones, which dimensions are about the ones of mature coconuts. I saw those amazing and powerful stones and I thought I could have used them as tin openers, so I started to beat the tin against the stones. One, the other one, and nothing happened. Of course, the poor tin was becoming all the time uglier, but it still wouldn’t cry. So I began to throw it against the stones; you can imagine a passerby seeing me, without a jacket, with socks, in the garden, throwing from one part to another one of the garden a silver tin, going then to fetch it, like a dog.
At a certain point, a splash of coconut milk comes outside the tin, arriving directly on my face – I never make a proper contouring, but that day of course I had it. And there were thousands of directions, I don’t understand why it had to center necessarily my face, but anyway… I ignore the coconut milk that I had on me and I plug the small hole from which the jet was coming, going back home in search for a glass. The jet lasted very shortly, so I decided to go outside again with the tin, the glass, and the coconut that I had everywhere, trying other thousand billions times to throw it. The most intelligent thing that I did was dropping the glass where there was already coconut milk in, but, apart of that, i felt a bit like Katniss Everdeen tried to spill water from the trees while she was dying of thirst (if you don’t know what I am talking about, it’s terribly serious but Google can help you).
I tortured the poor tin for quite another while, until when, between a small hole and another and still another one, it supplied me with a glass of coconut milk that, instead of using it like I had planned to, got an addition of sugar, and I drank it even very quickly. After that I went back home, trying again to enlarge with scissors and knives a small hole that looked big enough, but that anyway it didn’t follow my directions; only some more coconut milk came out, by dint of being shaken. I left the tin leaning to the glass so it could have drained, but it didn’t give to me not even a drop. And, well, the story finishes here, I wanted to share it with you, so at least you will remember who you have to deal with when you read our blog. 😉
If you don’t believe me, this is the tin, I will keep it as a memento and incentive to learn to use the tin opener: