Out of a strong sense of nostalgia, I recently bought a metal Care Bears lunchbox to keep make-up in. This morning I was running late and it was raining. So I grabbed my lunchbox as I ran out the door, prepared to apply my make-up enroute. I realized as I was walking down my high-traffic street heading for my car, how truly cute I must have looked with the hood of my red rain jacket pulled over my head, my blue and white umbrella and Care Bear lunchbox in hand. Then I realized in horror, after a near miss, how easy it is for metal lunchboxes to pop open, their contents spilling out. I could envision my make-up exploding into the air and falling into the wet street as I clambored to gather it all up and make it to work on time. Suddenly instead of a fond nostalgia for metal lunchboxes of yesteryear, I was having nightmarish childhood flashbacks of thermoses flying through the air, oranges rolling down the street, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches landing in a squished heap on the road.   ¶ 5:23 PM