the myth of scarcity, Peter Pan Whipped Peanut Butter edition

Sorry it's been a few days since I posted. I had to find places for 24 jars of peanut butter.

If there is any truth I hold to be self evident, it is that I do not like peanut butter. I never have. I blame my mother. She used to mix it in a bowl with the jelly and it just grossed me out.

If you have read this blog for more than 5 minutes, you probably know that too. Everyone knows this, right? I someday hope that my blog is the #1 hit when you google the phrase "I hate all kinds of peanut butter except Peter Pan Whipped Peanut Butter."

A brief history. The geniuses at Peter Pan figured out a way to whip regular nasty peanut butter with air and magically change it into whipped goodness and charge you more money for less peanut butter. Blah blah blah, there was salmonella, blah blah blah, people died, Satan's minions took peanut butter off the shelf.

So now I hide the Whipped Peanut Butter. I've seen the way people in this house eat. If you are willing to say, pick up strange people's food trash off the ground and eat it, or lick a pole in the subway, then you don't deserve the "good" peanut butter in your mouth.

The Pastor realized last week I hide and hoard the Whipped Peanut Butter. My selfishness offended him greatly. His solution? He went to the store and bought 12 jars of peanut butter. It went something like this: "Here (you selfish person) - now you can have a couple of jars, I can have a couple and the kids can each have a couple. There's plenty for everyone." OK, that still doesn't add up to 12 jars but I don't have a Ph.D. like him so I'm not sure how the math of scarcity works.

Only, he bought the wrong kind of peanut butter. He just bought regular Peter Pan.

Why oh why???!!!!! Why oh why did I not just keep my pie hole shut? Why did I not tell him thanks?! Or you guys can just eat all this peanut butter because I love you so much!

Nope, I told him. Ever since I've known the Pastor he has been the king of taking things back. Did he return the peanut butter? Nope. He went to the store, found the Whipped Peanut Butter and bought 12 jars of it.

This brings us to the grand total of 24 NEW jars of peanut butter for this house. Not to mention the peanut butter (and hidden jars of Whipped Peanut Butter and Nutella) we already had.

Did I mention we have been trying to become a downwardly mobile family and moved into a house half the size of our old house? When you minimize the size of your house, you also - get this - minimize the amount of storage space you have for 24 jars of peanut butter. I know! Crazy, huh? Who doesn't have room to store 24 jars of peanut butter?!?

That's ok. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. With peanut butter, you make cookies. Only when I told the Pastor I was going to make peanut butter cookies, his response was "I don't like peanut butter cookies."

Aaaaarrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh.

The Pastor did eventually offer to return some of the peanut butter. On the same day I finally found places to stash it all. When I die, poor Nate won't find hidden money. He'll find hidden Whipped Peanut Butter. Sorry, kid.

And what's peanut butter without bread? Yep, the Pastor bought bread too.

Have I mentioned I don't eat bread?