There are two basic things you need for successful cohabitation with a life partner - comfortable dining chairs and a functioning can opener. We tried for years with the $5 can openers that have 1000's of positive reviews. Not one of them ever worked right, not on the first day and certainly not on the day that I tossed them in the trash. They were so bad, so often, they'd frequently come with spare parts, right in the box. I don't know what's wrong with my cans or the awesome strength of my turning hand but none of these openers were ever up to the task. Unknown to me at the time, this was also having a detrimental effect on my marriage. I tried everything to bridge the chasm that was forming. Vacations, a new car, a new dining set. Each had its own positive but sadly short-lived effects. Eventually, we'd need to open a can and our happiness would drain, widening the gap. I bottled my emotions in easy-to-open jars because if they were in a can they'd be lost forever. Cold and empty, my life had become a tinderbox and I was searching for a spark so I could feel something, anything, again. Enter Swing-A-Way! Like most nights, we fought the night I made the Amazon purchase. "You spent how much? On a CAN OPENER!?" The walls of a house have memories and if you listen closely, you can still hear the echoes of that night. I sat emotionless, realizing this was my last, my only chance, to save my marriage. The other things brought us short bouts of happiness, but nothing lasted, it couldn't. I didn't want my children to have a broken home. How do you even get divorced during COVID? I'm a Prime member. While I don’t like to throw that around, this affords me certain things like free shipping at sometimes unreasonable speeds. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. Seems like a lot of guys were trying the same things I was, and the Swing-A-Way was not a next-day delivery. I'd have to wait two full days to get my order. The package arrived before lunch, in a typical Amazon bubble mailer, sitting on top of a stack of boxes in front of my garage. A stack of objects bought to fill a life, once full, but now empty from the void of our love. As I carried these shame boxes into the house, I couldn't have dreamed what lay inside of that Amazon emblazoned bubble wrapper. I pulled the perforated tab and was greeted by a sense of calm. I knew it was a can opener, but I didn't know it could be a life opener. This was a Friday, and I was raised Catholic. I continue to eat fish on Fridays out of habit and canned goods, seemingly, as a means of self-flagellation. Lunch that day would be Albacore tuna. A sign that she still cared was that it didn’t say “Friskies” on the tin. When that round Swing-A-Way blade first pierced the rolled steel top of the vessel, I was freed. Overcome with how effortlessly it poked the metal, I turned the handle. In disbelief, it cut a full circle without grinding or skipping, and without any swearing. When the circle was complete and the lid became fully separated from the can, an unfamiliar “tink” noise echoed through the house. It was a noise I remembered from childhood, a noise which I can only now, fully equate to “love”. It must have called to her too because just as quickly as it happened, she magically appeared behind me like an enchantress. “Ewww, Tuna? Keep that away from me.” With those words, I knew the Swing-A-Way saved my marriage.