Here’s the thing: I love cheese.
Like Uncle Buck, I eat a lot of the stuff. I love it in a “nothing tastes better, when I’m really in a snacky frame of mind, than a hunk or slice or pinch of cheddar” kind of way. I do it on burgers. I melt it on apple pie. I liquefy it and dunk Wavy Lays in it.
Cheese, me likey.
And it’s not so much that you keep moving it; our fridge isn’t enormous or over-crowded, so I can generally track it down when the craving hits.
It’s that you keep leaving the damn bag open! Even though it has a convenient little zipper thingy.
But I understand: your fingers are small and uncoordinated. Even though you play video games with no problem, and type remarkably well for your age, I hear your pain when it comes to having to squeeze together the packaging along that right-in-plain-sight line so that a tight seal is magically formed. You know why they make those zippy things, right? Of course you do. You’re a very bright child. Say it with me . . . They put the zipper on there so that the cheese stays moist, tender, edible . . . and doesn’t get all crusty or turn green.
You know this. Yet, there’s my cheese, the cheese I paid for, Dad’s Cheese, looking very sad. The cheese wants to be eaten, my dear offspring. It wants to be there, when I come looking for it, and it wants to feel worthy of being eaten. It doesn’t want to be all shriveled and nasty. It has a reputation to uphold, an image to maintain, and when you haphazardly place it back in the bag and choose not to lock the door, to seal it in, to tuck it in all cozy and safe, you hurt the cheese’s feelings. You laugh at my cheese’s pain, and tell it, “I don’t care about you, cheese.”
My cheese weeps.
So, your mom, who (1) is the real brains in this bunch, (2) is one who hates to see unhappy cheese , and (3) is fed up with my whining about the state of the cheese, has taken it upon herself to lend a hand. She has begun purchasing my cheese, my very special, part of the family, cheese, in some brand new packaging. It’s so new, I couldn’t even find a picture of it online. Not even at kraftfoods.com. I have had to resort to taking a picture of my new cheese . . .
. . . just so my Tweakers could see this awesome new cheese packaging. My glorious cheese, nestled contentedly in a hard, plastic container. With a lid! Observe how, when you pull the little tab in the upper-left-hand corner . . .
. . . it opens so nicely and smoothly. Even better, when you get through stealing my cheese, all you have to do is put the lid back on, press it all together, and . . .
. . . presto! My cheese is tucked away again, all comfy and smiling. With this innovative new package design, my cheese will never lose its youthfulness. Its beauty. It will sing with joy, I assure you.
And so will I when I next open the refrigerator door to get some of my cheese, and it is consumable.
We have the tools in place. Let’s agree to work together to keep the cheese, and me, happy.
Kapiche . . . ?
The Cheek of God 