This will be oblique for various reasons, not the least of which, oddly enough, is protecting another soda can.
If you’ve ever shaken or dropped a soda can, you know the contents can spill everywhere when you open it.
Well, I am a soda can. And I have been spilling all over the place all this past week.
The item that triggered this episode had its roots over six months ago when someone else’s can of soda was so pressurized that it was spewing all over the place and ended up creating a dangerous, potentially lethal situation.
I waited for that one to get its act together and acknowledge its irresponsible behavior. When the other soda indicated that it may have needed my help with something, I looked forward to creating conditions whereby the situation might have been remedied. Alas, it did not happen.
So when that soda offered a linguistic correction about a third party, my soda can spewed everywhere. It wasn’t about the third party – although they might have thought so – but the shaking that had occurred months earlier.
To be fair, that soda can, and this one is now seeking rapprochement.
And what it did was to point out a whole level of disequilibrium that had been going on in other areas. Last week, my soda can was shaken by the slightest tremor.
Someone once told me you can break up the bubbles in a dropped soda can by tapping on the top. In my experience, this works nine times out of ten. I need to figure out how to do the tapping. Or find someone else to help to do the tapping, which has historically been a royal pain in the tuchas.
Dropping a liter bottle of soda gets really wild. It hits the floor with a cross between a bomb and 4th of July fireworks. The liquid sprays up to the ceiling and creates very credible looking modern art.
We never managed to clean up the ceiling before we moved. The weirdly patterned ceiling soda could get us all giggling if anyone looked up during a family meal.
I’d love to say “Don’t try this at home.” But, how else would you ever get such a funny family history chapter?…