I write this with a mixture of volatile angst, bewilderment and more anger. I have purchased the marvellous AmazonBasics Multifunction Detachable Kitchen Shears, not once, not twice, but three times so far. The first time was a “just like that” purchase. The come-apart scissors turned out to be so good, I cut up things that didn’t need any cutting. I left town for a couple of weeks, and learnt, to my utter dismay, that my beloved new possession was crowning the landfills. Askance, upon a thorough enquiry into the matter, I came into the grappling knowledge that the scissors had “broken” and hence were thrown away. At this point, I was vexed to the point of amusement. I explained to the perpetrator, at length, mind you, that these are “DETACHABLE”- meaning that they detach and attach, and detach and attach, and so on and so forth.
With a very nostalgic, heavy heart, I again bought these marvellous pair of scissors. The beguiling pair of contraption sat proudly on the kitchen window sill, basking in the morning sun, quietly creeping into the cold moonlight as the black, well-padded thumb-holes slipped into mystical nocturne. Oh how they cut! Like a lover’s bantering; without the knowledge of the medium that was being torn apart in one quick squish. The marvellous scissors knew no limits, they cut paper and rock, flowers and bones and anything that needed a good old shear. Pity though, for all things that were cut, cursed a glooming spell on the scissors and they “detached” one fine day, without my knowledge. The apathetic domestic help decided it was time to put the “detached” corpse to rest and thus, the second pair of shears ended up in the trash.
Overwrought with, what can only be termed as annoyance mixed with graphic grittiness, I bought the “comes-apart” pair of scissors for the third time from the friendly, neighbourhood Amazon. Origami and salads, stalks and rose bushes, everything looked like they’d visited Supercuts. Sometimes, I would just stare out the window, cutting newspapers, immersing myself in a full-swing catharsis over the loss of the previous two pairs. This was mildly therapeutic, however, the bits of paper whirling on the floor called for a massive clean-up afterwards. Needless to say, this Hannibal-esque behaviour prompted some sacrilegious thoughts, which, woefully, if not thankfully, remained just mere fragments of imaginations. In an overzealous attempt to guard my knight in shining armour (how ironic!), I mindlessly left these out of the nest and as its wont, destiny made them disappear the next day. Et tu, Karma?
The cryptic universe was sending out a very incomprehensible memorandum to me vis-à-vis, “Stop spending money like you actually have money” I learnt my lesson, not once, not twice, but three bugging times and I am delighted to announce that I have tossed the proverbial towel on those gleaming pair of shears.