I totally got trolled by my mom earlier this morning when I asked her if the marmalade in the fridge was the pot we brought home from London.
My mom just blinked at me and replied, “What marmalade?”
I stopped short. “Eh, the ‘Oxford cut’ marmalade?”
Mom looked a little confused. “We don’t have marmalade. You mean marmite?”
I paled a little. I could still taste the bittersweet aftertaste of marmalade lingering at the back of my mouth. “No… marmalade,” I replied cautiously.
I was rewarded with what seemed like a really long blank stare from mom.
Oh God, what is it I’ve been spreading on my toast all this time the past few days?
Thankfully, she came to it a few seconds later and went, “Ohh, that marmalade. Yeah, yeah. We brought it back from London.”