I have a challenge for all you inventor-types out there: Forget smart watches and smart cars and smart everything else for a minute, okay? Because here is what I want, what I really really want:
A blueberry container that doesn't spill its contents at the barest touch.
That is all. That's everything my shriveled little heart desires.
Why, blueberry plastic-clamshell-container-thingy? Why the drama? Why the mess? Why the college-girl-with-low-self-esteem-on-spring-break-type desire to overstep healthy boundaries and spill your, ahem, bits and pieces everywhere? I look like a hardened bomb technician trying to defuse an IED just trying to get a carton or five of blueberries from my cart to the conveyor belt every week at the grocery store. And I know I'm not the only one who suffers from this affliction: At least every other month I see multiple stray blueberries littering the floor near the checkout at Aldi, so I am not the only one upsetting the fruit basket with stunning regularity. Anymore I'm like that mom of eight kids when I spill them in front of my fellow shoppers: no longer even capable of being embarrassed, just so, so tired.
And that's only at the store. We won't talk about how many berries have been smashed underfoot on my kitchen floor. I feel like Lucy in Italy, except there is no wine at the end. It's very sad.
At this point I wonder if I even know what blueberries who have never indirectly touched feet taste like, and how it would affect this, my near-everyday (UTTERLY DELICIOUS) lunch:
Ingredients: My favorite yogurt (Stoneyfield Organic, French Vanilla flavor, you complete me), a crap ton of blueberries- seriously, you need a berry to yogurt ratio of around 2:1- and a handful of rolled oats. Oh, and a smattering of floor germs, of course. My immune system sends its thanks, blueberry container.
Engineers (DAD), let me know when this has been solved. I'm sure it's now your top priority, and there may or may not be blueberry pie in it for you. Me and my taste buds are not above bribery.