A Man’s Touch
Casey slid the tip of his screwdriver under the lid. “It’s really not that hard. You just need the touch.”
Sue, his wife, stood off to the side with her arms crossed. “Uh huh.”
Smiling, he nodded. “See? It’s as easy as…”
His grip slipped and the jar or preserves flew off the counter and shattered on the floor.
Sue stifled a giggle. “Gee, wish I thought of that.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Feeling betrayed by the jar, Casey stared at the glass shards and strawberry jam.
“Obviously. The dustpan is in the cabinet. Try not to need stiches.”