There’s something deeply, pleasingly wrong about a tube of honey.

A screw cap and a soft metal body belong next to my toothbrush, in a painter’s kit, or maybe even in my first-aid drawer. But certainly bot next to my toast at 7 a.m. 

However, the object is almost obviously logical. Squeeze, spread, recap. No spoon is necessary, and certainly no sticky endless ribbon of honey connecting it back to the jar that permanently slops over the edge.