It takes a lot to amaze me nowadays, but last Saturday I was definitely amazed, stunned even. We were rolling along on our ancient tram in Melbourne when I saw an amazing sight. Two teenagers boarded our tram. They sat down across from us and they began to chat with one another, face to face like.

Not for a few minutes before taking out their phones, but for the entire journey. They talked, they laughed, they looked at one another and nodded or shook their heads. They used body language to communicate.

It was terribly unnerving. To see two young people who weren’t doing their finger exercises on a tiny screen or shouting into their phones made me squirm awkwardly and wonder.

Who were these two young people? Why were they having a conversation face to face, not on Facebook with a million twittering imaginary friends, but with one another as if the whole thing were natural?

Were they from another planet perhaps? Or had their phone accounts run out. Had they forgotten to charge them? Perhaps some catastrophic event had caused them to misplace their phones.

Or was it perhaps my own wishful thinking, a delusion, that had invented something that no longer exists. Genuine conversation minus electronics.

Seems like I’ve started the year off badly. Fallen off the wagon, you might say. I fear that 2012 is no better than 2011 and all the years that went before it. Guess I’m doomed to keep on searching for the holy grail, which in my case, turns out to be the perfect plastic container.

I’ve been through a passion for Tupperware. What devoted domestic diva hasn’t? Had a few of them with their lifetime guarantees but the parties were demeaning and, besides, Tupperware is oh so expensive!

So I turned to cheaper plastic containers that soon became discoloured and weren’t quite spillproof. When they became misshapen with lids that didn’t fit I relegated them to a special place in my kitchen devoted to spare and emergency containers. You know the sort of collection I mean. Too good to throw out cause you may need them one day in an emergency.

I don’t dare ask myself what sort of emergency would necessitate a crappy plastic container, but you never know. I certainly don’t. But should the occasion arise, I’m well stocked.

My latest indulgence is “Lock & Lock.” Apparently, you can never have too many of them. I have thousands of these containers, a kitchen full. All shapes and sizes, rectangular, round, and even bottle shaped.

Long ago my naive husband suggested that perhaps I have enough plastic containers. When will I use them all? Have we got room for all these things?

He has a point, of course, but he doesn’t understand that the search for the perfect container is a bit like religion. You have to believe that there is something out there that will give real meaning to your life, structure and order. Isn’t that what religion’s about?

Well, in my case, I’m under the impression that if I can have the perfect collection of plastic containers then all will be well with the world, my world, that is. So neat and tidy, so stackable, so useful. A place for everything etc. etc. And who wouldn’t want to live without chaos?

Sadly, just when you think you have enough containers for every occasion, you pass a shop that has more Lock & Lock containers. These ones offer the possibility of storing tons and tons of leftovers. And they put the others to shame. They are made of even better plastic without that dangerous chemical in them. You know the one I mean. BPA, the latest evil ingredient in plastic. They say it could cause irreparable damage to your cells. Can’t be too careful these days, can you?

Can you?

Well, this is what happened a couple of days ago and that’s how I fell off the wagon in 2012. But this time I’m sure that I have every plastic container that I will ever need. I’ve seen the light and intend to stick to my new resolve religiously.