And I Thought Only Vampires Were Defeated By Garlic

The definition of insanity has been rightfully deemed to be, "doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result."

When it comes to that little jar of garlic in my fridge, I am certifiably insane.

Yesterday, like so many Sundays before it, my slow cooker awaiting the pot roast I'd trudged through snow to obtain and carry home in my earth-friendly reuseable canvas tote (yep, I'm one of those), I extracted the jar from the fridge, determined that today would be the day and that jar would open.

Never mind it never has before.

As I've done an embarrasingly large number of times before, I grasped the lid, applied all the force and determination I had within me, and believed that jar would open. So much so that I would have bet money on it and I never bet money on anything.

I did this, you see, because when it comes to that unopenable jar, I am insane.

The pot roast survived. The jar went back into the fridge and I chopped fresh garlic. Next week, I told myself. Next week it will open.

Now, a non-garlic-insane person, which I'm not, would have simply crossed the hall, rang the bell of the Nice Married Couple Always Happy To Help With Anything At All, and Mr. Nice Married Man would have (happily) opened the jar and never thought anything more about it. That would have been the logical course.

Note that when it comes to matters like these, I am completely illogical. I do not want to be 'that nice single lady in 4B who really could use a man around the place, poor thing'.

I've been this way since I was a kid. Damsels in distress always more or less peeved me. Had I been Rapunzel I'd have tied my hair to the doorknob, done a backflip out the tower window, more or less bungee jumped to within 3' of the ground, whipped a pair of scissors from my pocket, sacrificed a couple feet or so of hair to free myself, and put to rest right then and there the whole, "Oh dear, I'm stuck in a tower" thing. And if Cinderella let her sisters tell her she couldn't go to the ball and they could she needed to toughen up and do what I did with my sisters. Sometimes a simple, "Oh yeah? Well you're not the boss of me!" goes a long way, especially if you consider getting beaten up worthwile in the right circumstances. It sure put the kybash on a lot of Barbie abductions when I was growing up.

So it's that, and it's the fact that I'm stubborn. Some things, I have to ask for help with. The installation of a light fixture, a ceiling fan, and my doorbell, for example. I know myself. Fortunately, I also know someone who knows something about electricity. The only thing I truly understand about electricity is that you pay a bill every month to keep it turned on.

Jars that won't open are an entirely different matter. I refuse to ask for help.

So that jar of garlic is back in the fridge and I remain convinced that next Sunday, perhaps when the planets are aligned differently and the moon has entered a new phase, it will open.

That's my insanity and I'm sticking to it.