dear lidless tupperware container

Dear Lidless Tupperware Container:

I hate you. With every fiber in my being, I hate you. I don’t know how you do it, I don’t even want to know how you do it, but EVERY time I open the stupid cabinet door to where you live, you jump out and land on my head. How do you do that?? Why do you do that?? Is that fun for you?? Do you get some kind of sick kick out of that?? You know that I don’t want you to land on the floor, so I always go to some extreme aerobic measures just to catch you each time. Why do I try?? Better yet, why do I keep you? You aren’t even functional. You don’t have a lid. I think you take advantage of my distorted thinking and frugalness. I think maybe one day I’ll find your mysterious partner and you can be used again. And sometimes I think maybe I could just use foil or saran wrap to seal something up in you so that you could be of good use one day. But you know that deep down inside I am just way too cheap to throw your plastic butt away.What’s crazy is that you aren’t a real Tupperware container to begin with. You are just some container that Kroger used to package its lunchmeat. You’re a wanna be. A poser. Yet I keep you like you are something special, and this is the thanks I get?? You know what? Jump on me again, see what happens. Go ahead, dive bomb me. Do it one more time and I’m done with you. You will hit the floor, my friend, then to the trash can. Oh yeah, . . . . go ahead, jump.

Sincerely,

Matt