I Love it When I'm Righty-Tighty

Tiffany and I had a mutual craving for sauerkraut recently. This was fortuitous because the only jar of organic sauerkraut we could find was GIGANTIC. If only one of us had a craving for sauerkraut, we would have been less likely to buy the big jar.

Anyway. We both got home from work starving and planned to enjoy the sauerkraut along with some beef Tiffany had sauteed with onions and peppers a la American chop suey. This, she tells me every time she makes it, is a dish she learned from her dad.

When I got home, I said:

"Mmmm, smells like chop suey," tossing my backpack onto the floor where Tiffany never believes it belongs.

"It's my dad's recipe," Tiffany beamed.

I smiled.

The plan was to serve the chop suey-ish dish with yellow mustard and sauerkraut. But I couldn't get the jar of sauerkraut open, despite tugging on it until my hands were imprinted with the shape of the lid.

"Tiffany," I begged. "Help."

I really wanted a bite of that tart goodness.

Tiffany smirked at me as she grabbed hold of the jar. But she couldn't open it either.

"We can do this," I said. "We have to be able to do this."

I pounded at the lid with the handle of a butter knife, and then Tiffany took the jar back. She sat down with it between her thighs and turned it as hard as she could. And that's when I noticed: Tiffany was turning righty-tighty. Not lefty-loosey.

"Tiffany!" I shrieked. "You're turning it the wrong way!"

"Impossible," she said.

"No! Righty-tighty! Lefty-loosey!"

I drew a counter-clockwise circle with my finger on a pretend clock.

Tiffany twisted the lid the other direction. It popped right off.