Every species has its natural rival. Cats have mice. Wolves prey upon deer. Zebras are hunted by lions. Mailmen are weary of dogs.
Sarah Khan’s arch nemesis? The water bottle.
Possibly the result of a widespread conspiracy, water bottles strongly object to be opened by me. I twist, I turn, I grunt, I moan, I beseech the higher powers, but the stubborn containers responsible for my despair sit there, poker-faced, taunting me with their obstinacy. Dasani, Aquafina, Evian, Fiji, Poland Springs—they’re all in it together. I once spent an entire evening engaging in combat with a bottle of Gatorade, attacking it with pliers and stabbing holes in its cap with a knife, all to no avail. Eventually, my rather diminutive roommate came home and effortlessly unscrewed the top, all the while chattering about her day. I like to think I’d loosened it for her, of course.