I really hate the popcorn bucket.
It's big, and blue,
and takes up too much room in the dishwasher.

I know it's a popcorn bucket, because it has "popcorn" embossed on the side
In case my wife or I suffer some sort of sudden, traumatic brain damage
And forget what the hell we've been eating out of it for the last five years.

When it's not taking up too much room in the dishwasher,
It belongs in a cabinet that has doors that won't close properly
When the popcorn bucket is in it.

When I say it's big, and blue
I mean really, really big. Also, pretty damned blue.
When it's neither in the dishwasher, nor almost in its cabinet,
It's filled with stinky popcorn
That engulfs our home with the stench of artificial butter, burnt kernels,
And defeat.

I find great joy in living, and the sensual delights of taste, and smell
And I'm usually pretty good with spatial relationships
But man, I hate that fucking popcorn bucket.