The War At Home

The good thing about my husband and me is that we rarely ever fight. The bad thing is that we tend to have arguments over the most unimportant things. Like marmelade.

A few weeks ago my mother brought me two jars of my very favorite marmelade, the one that I have yet to find in a grocery store, because the world has yet to realize that jostaberries exist, and so I’m completely depending on my mother making me some. So, two jars. Two friggin‘ jars for a whole year.

The strange girl that I am I develop strange habits when it comes to food I really like. In other words: I’m the josta marmelade’s best security guard, trying my best to make it last for as long as I can.

That led to this morning’s argument, when I found my husband carelessly spreading my precious marmelade over his bread and realized the second jar was nearly half empty.

Me: „What are you doing?“
The Husband: „What?“
Me: „You’re wasting the josta marmelade.“
The Husband: „I’m not wasting it, I’m eating it.“
Me: „That’s our last jar, look how much is already gone.“
The Husband (smelling the marmelade): „That’s not even josta marmelade, that’s currant.“
Me, I’m going to the fridge, opening the door and studying the contents very carefully. There’s only one other jar of marmelade in there and it’s already opened, so I take it out and smell it. Strangely enough it smells like tomato sauce.
Me: „Of course that’s josta. This one smells like tomato sauce, so it’s gotta be from your mother. My mom washes the jars more throughly.“
Then I smell the jar of the supposedly not josta marmelade and it smells like A-1 not-to-be-wasted josta marmelade. Ha! I knew it.
Me: „You know the bad thing is that if you don’t even think that you’re eating josta marmelade you can’t give it the respect it should get. When I eat it I think ‚Mmmmmmmh, josta marmelade!‘ all the time. You, you think ‚Oh, black currant‘.“

There has been no resolution to this argument other than I was right and my husband doesn’t get the importance of how to treat the josta marmelade. But I do.