If I’ve learned one thing it’s this: Don’t trust a lid. It will only let you down.
Never put your dignity in the hands of a little lid. Or a big one.
Don’t let a disc of plastic be all that stands between you and discovering how much soup looks like vomit when it covers your clothes.
Even if you splash out on something top-of-the-range – with clips and seals and guarantees of satisfaction – do not be seduced. The lid is not your friend, your helpmate. Not a bit of it.
They resent their ‘Tupperware drawer’ billet so much they’ll escape as soon as your back is turned. They vanish – eloping with the single socks – leaving their lidless siblings to their empty mourning. Jilted, just when there’s a picnic to pack. And if you do catch one before it flees, beware, revenge will be a dribble of pea and ham.
Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off lid. Never trust a lid. Not once.
Don’t think you can travel unscathed either, they really hate that.
Your punishment, you’ll discover, is the anointing of your precision-packed new-this-season capsule wardrobe with jojoba and alfalfa hair treatment serum. That’ll teach you.
Though it won’t, you know. How many times will you need to find lipstick on your car keys, mayonnaise coating your groceries, and ink in your pocket before the penny drops?
Coffee cup lids, in particular, are out to get us. To stop our evolution into a tribe of fools with one hand clamped to a mobile phone and the other to a non-recyclable vat of overpriced beverage. You think it’s progress. But surely the first step would have been to invent a way of carrying scalding fluid around (while wearing heels) that doesn’t end up with it in nasty brown smears down your clothes.
Lids loathe the human race. Think about it.
You can’t split an atom or cure the uncurable if you’re stuck in the loo feeding your shirt into the Dyson Airblade to deal with the ‘accidental’ leakage on your front. It was no accident.
Nothing says you shouldn’t try to chart the uncharted more clearly than finding your spare yak wool and bamboo socks sodden because the lid of your Thermos unscrewed itself in your backpack. That too is not a fluke.
Benjamin Franklin nailed it.
For the want of a lid the shirt was lost, For the want of a shirt the meeting was lost, For the want of a meeting the client was lost, For the want of a client the business was lost, And all for the want of a well-fitting lid.
And he never did discover how badly those coffee shop lids do their job. Their one job.
Never trust a lid.
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