Butterfly Story Update:
I related to Mrs. Curmudgeon that her theory that butterflies emerge from the chrysalis desperately hungry is incorrect. It’s unsupported by my experience. She asked about the sugar mix.
What’s to say? It was sugar and water.
WRONG!
Turns out, the sweet white powder I presume to be sugar… because it looks like sugar and smells like sugar and is in a what I perceive as a sugar-bowl… is not sugar. The sugar is in a different unlabeled container that is nearby and also looks like a sugar-bowl. The two containers and the substances within the two containers appear identical to me… but they’re not. My pet butterfly figured it out but I didn’t. I’m baffled. If I had XX chromosomes (or wings) everything would make sense.
Apparently I was trying to feed that poor butterfly a mix of Stevia and sugar. It knew this and wanted nothing to do with it. Smart!
As for me, I’ve just learned there are a several canisters of God knows what near the coffee pot. I thought they were all the same. I assumed we had many small canisters instead of a single larger one because they looked cool, or fit under the counter, or maybe if ants get into one the others are unharmed. I never pondered it before.
I think my wife has been trying to improve my health by stealthily slipping Stevia into my food supply. Or maybe roofie me. Hard to say which.
Such are the beautiful eternal mysteries of marriage. Mrs. Curmudgeon leaves similar but different food items around the kitchen because it’s obvious to her. I’m a Neanderthal that can’t differentiate between similar foodstuffs. If I pick up a container and it looks like sugar I’m pretty much out of ideas what it might be other than sugar. My mental search routine has coarsely identified the substance and calls it a day. Why would I inquire further?
This is mildly disconcerting. In the morning when I need strong Death Wish coffee and I need it right now, I’m not prepared to differentiate among seemingly identical chemical elixirs. If I reach for what I thought was sugar that’s what it is in my mind. It could be sugar. It could be an unholy butterfly killing mix of Stevia and sugar. It could be dish soap. Regardless, it’s going in my coffee.
Now I doubt everything in the kitchen. Is it flour or cocaine? Is it sea salt or spackling compound? Is is allspice or polonium? Things are suddenly more interesting. Part of the joy of life is knowing my wife might have a personality traits that overlap with a poisoner. She keeps my on my toes!