merging

We are a two peanutbutter household.

I am almost embarrased to admit this, but we maintain strictly separate peanutbutters. I cannot give up control over my smooth creamy peanutty goodness. I will not try to adapt to my husband's choice of peanut spread. He is wrong. And I am right. I am a Skippy girl. He is a Jiff boy. Our individual plastic jars of peanutbutter sit side by side in the pantry. They get along, trade war stories, talk about what the pasta is doing with the Oh's! cereal, but they will never merge. Peanutbutter is too personal.