I Bought a Bridge. And It Was Worth Every Penny.

I answered my phone one day to an angelically sweet voice asking me hadn’t my Much-Older-and-Ridiculously-Talkative cousin we will heretofore refer to as Motormouth Mary told me she was going to call?
In the 2.7 seconds it took me to respond that No, in fact, Motormouth Mary had NOT told me to expect her call, I had decided that as Motormouth Mary is a teacher, and it was the beginning of the school year, she must have met this new young teacher who had just moved to the area and was lacking a social life and thought of me, as I am clearly more this young voice’s age than Motormouth Mary herself, and thought I could act as her social director.

I’ve got a good imagination. But I was totally wrong. Way, way, way wrong.

Her name was Ida. Who names their kid Ida? It should have been my first clue. She just wanted to give me a quick presentation. 15 minutes, no more. Nothing to buy, I promise. Just get me some credits. It’s for a scholarship. Motormouth Mary said you were so sweet, Penney, I just thought you’d say yes.

I said yes.

First words out of her mouth were, “I’m not a salesman.” Should have been my second clue.

There were scissors. But who NEEDS scissors that cut pennies in half anyway? Of course, the cutting with ease of that terrible indestructible plastic surrounding children’s toys was way cooler.

And there were knives. Knives that sliced through carrots like butter. Knives that chop like the chef does on the Food Network. In MY hands. Knives that cut bread slices in thirds. The thin way. For real. Clearly this is something we all need in our lives.

I bought three.

She was a damn fucking good salesman if you ask me.

When the knives hadn’t come two weeks later, I got buyers remorse. Like WOAH. Because these WEREN’T cheap knives. And we have really nice knives already. REALLY nice. And an electric sharpener. So even though the really nice knives are a bit dull, it should take us approximately twenty-eight seconds to sharpen them all. Not three hundred dollars.

And how exactly would I tell the Unsupportive Louse that I no longer thought the fantastic purchase I had made was most definitely worth the fantastic amount of money I had spent? I’m pregnant. So I didn’t. (This excuse works for numerous things, you should try it sometime.)

The knives finally showed up.

You know how you make a gorgeous homemade loaf of bread and then when you cut it it gets all squished down and kinda torn up and the pieces are still way thicker than they need to be? Not with Cutco’s bread knife.

You know how tomatoes squirt all over the place when you try to slice them? Not with Cutco’s knife.
You know how much of a pain in the ass it is to make that first half cut through a watermelon? Cutco’s butcher knife makes it child’s play.

Yes, I thought, they were indeed a good purchase.

Then I bought a couple pie pumpkins. Jokingly (though admittedly I was the only one in on the joke), I hacked the butcher knife into one a la Freddy Crougar…and cut the damn thing straight through.

Worth every penny.