A long time ago, I lived in a far away place, called Kansas City. It was an old house, near 42nd and Wornall, that had been broken up into two apartments. There was an upstairs apartment and a downstairs apartment. I lived downstairs with Andrea. Two men lived in the upstairs apartment. Maybe their names were Zach and Ian. I’m not sure. We were cordial.
Well, during the winter Andrea’s and my jar of coconut oil got stuck shut. Like, really really stuck. And every time one of us tried to use it we would go to the other. OMG this is so tight I can’t get it opened! And the other would try and they wouldn’t get it. And then I would say, I’m going to ask the guys upstairs. And Andrea would say, No! We’re not doing that! So I didn’t and the coconut oil jar stayed shut for many months. I remember it being many months.
And then, one day in spring I wanted the coconut oil again. And Andrea wasn’t home to tell me not to ask the guys upstairs for help so I did. I asked Ian and he opened it in a second.
Anne Foster 