The old man was buttering his toast when his wife came into the kitchen.
She said, “Did you sleep well, darling?”
He glanced at her with a hint of surprise. “Yes, thanks.”
She said, “That’s good.”
He said, “We’ve run out of milk again”.
She said, “Oh! I’m sorry.”
He said, “You are?”
She said, “Yes, I’ll get some as soon as the shops open.”
He shook his head and grunted.
She said, “What’s wrong, dear?”
He said, “The marmalade.”
She said, “What about it?”
He said, “I asked you to get the one without the shreds.”
She said, “You did?”
He said, “Yes, this jar is full of the lumpy stuff; it’s hard to spread.”
She said, “Sorry dear, I’ll get another one.”
He said, “While we’re at it, I might as well tell you, you left the fridge door slightly open again.”
She thought for a moment. “Yes, you’re right, I did. I really must mend my ways.”
He stopped trying to spread marmalade and stared at her. “Why are you being so nice? It makes me nervous.”
She smiled and said, “I’m practicing my new world view.”
He said, “Well, don’t. I don’t like it… it’s horrible!”