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Keeping It Under Wraps By: Susan Goldfein / Susan’s Unfiltered Wit I ’m standing over my kitchen counter which currently looks like a setting for a horror movie. Lined up in medical precision are two screwdrivers, (flathead and Phillips) a pair of sharp scissors, a Swiss army knife, an electric drill, and a box cutter. My hands are gloved and my eyes are goggled to protect against personal injury. I’m aware that what I’ve described above conjures images of a serial killer’s basement, but I assure you I haven’t killed anyone recently. I’m merely preparing to release my newly purchased computer accessory from yet another hard plastic blister pack! Okay, I admit to some exaggeration in discussing my tool line-up, but I know I’m not alone when it comes to feelings of frustration and anger caused by the inability to open a heat-sealed package fused together by what seems like 200 tons of pressure. I’m quite convinced the blister pack, and its first cousin, the clam shell, was invented by an insomniac sadist who stayed awake at night figuring out the best way to send as many people as possible to the emergency room. In fact, I’m not at all certain that the need to replace my left shoulder didn’t stem from trying to unseal the package holding a new pair of scissors, which I bought because I ruined the last pair trying to open a package! The desire to eventually smash the unopened package with a sledgehammer is indeed universal. In 2003, a British newspaper actually coined a phrase to describe the phenomenon. It’s called Wrap Rage. Wrap Rage, unfortunately, is not limited to blister packs and clam shells. Cursing can also be easily induced by other types of packaging as well. Have you ever bought a bag of deliciously tempting cookies? You’re salivating as you try to open the bag from the corner that says, “Tear here.” Five minutes later you’re reaching for the meat cleaver, or deciding the unopened package is for the best. You really do need to lose some weight. Cardboard boxes, friendly as they might look, also present a challenge. My latest box of oatmeal directed me to a bit of perforation that said, “Push here to open.” My best efforts and some very foul language only served to mangle the box. I opted for a piece of toast. I wonder, on my next birthday will I still be able to handle child-proof bottle caps? Is it too much to ask the pharmacy to have a section of the store devoted to people who no longer have toddlers at home? Stiff plastic wrapping around jars is another bugaboo. While I appreciate that the manufacturer is trying to assure me that the product has not been tampered with, I’d be more appreciative if he would include a gift certificate for a manicure to mend the fingernail I split trying to reach the spaghetti sauce. Or at the very least, a Band Aid. So next time you’re expending all your energy trying to open a package containing an energy saving light bulb, remember, you’re not alone. You’re simply another victim of the sadistic insomniac. So please feel free to throw a temper tantrum. You’ve earned it. 50 June 20<strong>22</strong> Susan Goldfein’s newest book, How to Complain When There’s Nothing to Complain About, is available at Amazon.com, BN.com, Read her blog at: www.SusansUnfilteredWit.com. Email Susan: SusanGoldfein@aol.com.