It’s the little bottle-caps that confound me.

I can open mayonnaise and jelly jars, though I eat neither.  I can pop tops; I can slam a garbanzo bean can on the electric opener and whirl it around til it yields its contents.  But those little caps on one-liter carbonated water bottles challenge my last nerve and defy every gadget in my silverware drawer — the red rubber disk; the old-fashioned reverse-direction expanding-gizmo that my son bought at a garage sale; even the hefty black Good Grips device.

Desperately thirsty and unwilling to resort to tap, I crossed the kitchen to that junk drawer everybody hates.  (We literally call this drawer, ‘You know — the drawer everybody hates.’)  Yanking it open, pulling out the divided plastic box of useless screws, my dad’s hammer, my ex-husband’s measuring tape, and the ball of infinitely breakable twine, I finally found what I needed:

Pliers.

One swift turn and the cap flew to the counter.  I filled my glass to the brim and greedily guzzled the ice-cold liquid.  Then I stood in the kitchen, looking at the pliers, and realized one immutable fact.

Anything can be done:  it’s just a question of having the right tool.

I hope this lesson has not come too late to be useful to an old gal from the Lou. I’m not complaining, though.  Better late than never.