Sweet Vindication!

  So, the other day I went up to the break room at work to get some coffee. And you may recall  my history with the sugar canister. Not once, but twice, the sugar canister and I got into an argument when it was time to open a fresh new container.

Open!
No.
Open, damn you!
No.
Open now!
Maybe.
Open before I crush your plastic top like a wookie in a trash compactor!  !!! HULK SMASH !!!

And the cover imploded and plastic shards flew through the air like shrapnel and sharp plastic edges sliced into my thumb and women shrieked and children dove for cover. It was quite an experience.

And yes, to reiterate, this happened on two separate occasions.

But the other day, when I reached for the sugar canister, to my delight, I saw that the cover of this one was shattered beyond recognition. So, it isn't only me who struggles with these darn things! I'm not the only one with a dark past full of plastic shards and cut thumbs? Not the only one who has scurried out of the break room, face like a smoldering ember, mumbling under my breath, 'It wasn't me. I'm fine. It was that way already. Who, me? What sugar?'

And whoever the culprit was this time did a splendid job! Almost the entire cover was gone. Almost - there was just enough to see that it wasn't simply removed - it had been smashed and crushed like a car at the impound lot. Now that's a lot of thumb muscle! If I see anyone walking through the halls with thumbs the size of Arnold Schwartzenegger's bicep, I will know who the culprit is. And I just may challenge them to a thumb wrestling match.

Quack!