This seemingly innocuous bottle of honey caused quite the stir in our marriage last week.
You see, I despise these cleaning-disasters-in-wait; my husband on the other hand thinks that because it is a supposed ‘innovation’ in the way we spread this condiment over our bread that it must – nay, it is – even better than the original.
No, no, it’s not.
The debate erupted again when he found our existing bottle wilting in the middle like a three-day old gerbera and it trickling honey all over the (just cleaned) countertop.
His swearing was the precise right moment for me to throw in an ‘I-told-you-so’.
“This wouldn’t happen if you buy the normal pots or jars of honey like I do,” I said.
“If you squeezed it from the bottom and not the middle, it’d be fine,” he retorted.
“You say it like there’s not another two pairs of hands in this household, eager to try out their dextrous talents on the vulnerable mid-section of a soft plastic bottle.”
“That’s beside the point. Keep it out of their reach.”
“It doesn’t matter where you put it. Even in the highest point in the shelf there will come a time when it will go all Leaning Tower of Pisa and then we’ll be wondering why we’ve got ants.”
I think it was at this point that I’d won my point and he went skulking off.
What say you on squeezy honey?
Innovation or aberration of the foodly kind?
