In a Jam Over Jelly

Yesterday, my wife was grousing about not enough grape jelly being left in the jar to make her peanut butter & jelly sandwich. I made the mistake of pointing out that there were other jelly flavors in the refrigerator. I guess “ew” is my wife’s official positions on jelly flavors other than grape. I made the mistake of offering up yet another suggestion, this time to scrape out the grape jelly accumulated right under the rim. Apparently, the under-the-rim jelly is gross, even though it is grape. I pressed my luck and suggested to my wife that she is a food elitist. She mentioned that she is not the person in the house that has eaten from the garbage, not so subtly suggesting that would be me. She’s right about me and garbage food, but I also think she proved my point that she’s the food elitist. Garbage is one of my favorite food groups. “You aren’t going to throw that out” is my favorite line at home. Well, she is at least as much of a food elitist as anyone can be who eats peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.

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