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Pet Medicine Chest

Okay, who's the fiend who dreamed up all the diabolical packging that plagues us these days? I've searched Google, but no luck. If I could identify the perpetrator, I'd have him (or her) shrink-wrapped and encased in a titanium-strength corrugated, duet-taped carton and air-lifted to a desert island, with only a pair of manicure scissors to use as an escape tool.

It all started years ago with child-proof caps on medicine bottles, which I am convinced have been solely responsible for sending a multitude of senior citizens off their rockers and into rockers al facilities for the mentally unstable. Dementia? Hardening of the arteries? Depression? No way. It's those damn plastic caps that refuse to turn even when we push down hard as instructed, or at least as hard as we can push now that arthritis has made our hands practically useless. I personally have found a way lo keep from going off the deep end trying to open a child-proof cap. I simply ask a child to do it for me. Works every time.

And what about those resealable bags that refuse to reseal? You can't tell me that they weren't developed by a gremlin with a macabre sense of humor who cackles gleefully just picturing these bags leaking and spilling their contents all over our refrigerator shelves and cupboards.

As for those ubiquitous Styrofoam peanuts we've all come to hate, if you're successful in opening any carton containing them, they will immediately explode forth and cover every surface, high and low, including the inaccessible spaces under the piano, the sofa, and beds (yes, they have an uncanny ability to navigate around corners, up and down stairs, and apparently even through closed doors and drawers). Open one of those cartons in your kitchen in January, and you'll still be picking up Styrofoam peanuts when you're searching for your bikini in that old chest in your cellar next July.

And why must so many products, from a small box of paper clips to an 88-note keyboard, be encased in rigid clear plastic that's stronger than the material used for bank vaults and more form-fitting and unyielding than Scarlett O'Hara's corset? If you don't have a blow torch or an electric saw with a diamond blade, good luck trying to open it.

Then there are those canned products (pet food, sardines, and such) with a metal tab and ring. You're supposed to lift the ring (hah!) and pull it back to remove the top of the can. Who are they kidding? Without a forklift, it's just about impossible. And, let's face ii, how many of us have a forklift in our kitchen drawers?

Milk and juice cartons also present a challenge. Unscrewing the cap is easy, but that's just to lull you into a false sense of accomplishment. Once the cap is off, you're faced with a harmless-looking foil circle that's ad hered over the pouring spout with a substance that could effectively be used to glue the wings onto the fuselage of a 747.

You have to destroy the carton in order to pour yourself a glass of your morning OJ. By then you desperately need destressing, so you decide to relax to your new Sounds Nature CD. Big mistake. When you finally remove the outer cellophane wrap, alter breaking all ten fingernails, can you open the plastic case in which the CD is snugly nestled? Of course not.

Nothing is easily accessible any more. No wonder I've come to dread the holidays. King Tut's mummy wasn't as tightly wrapped as the cheese log I received last Christmas.

I used to love to see the FedEx guy come, laden with gifts for me. But even in those cute shorts, he has long since lost his appeal. For the past few years, whenever he rang my bell I'd hide, hoping he'd go away; but even if he did, he'd always come back. He was relentless.

I swear all that packaging material (which just gets thrown away and usually isn't even recyclable) often costs more than the products they sheath. Not only are we being driven to frustration trying to open whatever we acquire, we're actually paying for the torture. And by doing so, we're discouraging manufacturers from marketing their goods unwrapped, unencased and unencumbered.

It's surprising that newborn babies still come into the world unpackaged.., at least, so far.

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