I have one of those neat coffee machines where you stick in a coffee ‘cup’, some water and hit the ‘Brew’ button to magically produce a nice morning cuppa’. Even these simple steps are nearly beyond my formidable analogical skills an physical prowess when I first wake up in the morning.  If it weren’t for the promise of warmth and caffeinated bliss,  I would resort eating sugar right out of the bag or simply giving up and crawling back into bed.

This morning, I decided to add to the complexity of my morning routine, I decide a slice or two of toast would go nicely with my Fair Trade Colombian caffeine fix. My grumbling stomach convinced my sleep addled brain that there were two simple steps to the toasting: Open the bread and put it in the toaster. My brain verified the information, added it to the coffee making procedure and set my body about it’s business.

The coffe amking went as well as expected. No water dropped, no blood spilled.  With this part of the mission accomplished, the brain ordered a small release of serotonin to celebrate.  The most difficult task was complete. Now on to the simple, simplicity of making toast.

The order given, the body complies.  Open the bag grab a slice of bread. Grab a slice of bread. Grab a slice of…wait a second! Package opened, check.  Grab.a.slice.of.bread. Fail.  What fail?!?!?  The befuddled brain orders the sleep encrusted eyes to see why the hand can complete the simple task of  grabbing a slice of bread. The eyes report a second package encasing the bread.

I checked the inner package for a EZ-Open strip, or a flap of plastic to tear open, to no avail.  The package was to well sealed for this method of attack to succeed.  I had to resort to finding something sharp.  My track record of opening packaging with sharp objects is riddled of incidents involving pain, blood and stitches.  Each of these cutting incidents occurred under much better conditions than my current uncaffeinated and annoyed state.

I rapidly eliminated the blood thirsty 14″ Chef’s knife (one bitten, twice shy), the boning knife (the name alone stands  as a warning) and the rest of the knife family in general.  There was just too much of a chance of disaster with any of ‘em.  My next thoughts turned to scissors.  I have several pair, all in other locations of the house, other than the kitchen.  A search of that magnitude would really need a caffeine fix, before any attempt was made.

Just as I was going to lose hope for a bit of warm, butter and jam soaked toast I remembered my Swiss Army wallet companion! It has a small naikl fikle and a bitty set of scissors in it!  ultimately, my morning pre-breakfast was saved.

The simple task of having a cup of coffee and toast was made way more complicated by the second layer of packaging for my bread.  I understand that it serves the purpose of keeping the bread fresher, but, the manufactures need to make the opening of this second package easier. No one should need to wield a sharp object, in order to open stupid package of bread. Leave an easy to find, small flap of plastic that will allow the package to be unwrapped or put an easy to find zip strip on the inner package.

In short, don’t fuck with me in the morning.  This time nobody got hurt (mainly me).