pot of honey

When Yasha and I both came home last weekend, we found a jumbled assortment of foods: some left by us at the beginning of the summer, some left by Mitka a couple weeks before, and some left by the subletters.  I tend to blame everything on Mitka, so when there were two open bags of tortilla chips, one quite stale and one not as stale, I assumed that the more-stale was Mitka's and the less-stale was a subletter's.  Yasha pointed out that we'd had a beginning-of-summer party involving lots of chips, and so the more-stale chips might have been from then and shouldn't be blamed on Mitka.  When I cleaned and organized the pantry, this time I taped signs all over, camp style, labeling which foods and non-foods go where.  I don't think this will cause anyone to keep the pantry more in order, but it will give me a stronger feeling of superiority when they don't.

Yesterday I looked in the fridge to see what was in there and if any of it should be thrown out.  I'd been looking particularly warily at a quart-size plastic container of light brown liquid.  The top centimeter or so was transparent light brown, and the rest was more opaque.  I worried that Mitka had decided to keep a large amount of bean liquid, or perhaps very moldy meat broth.  When I picked up the container, it didn't slosh.  "It's frozen?  How is it frozen?"  I opened it and smelled carefully.  It smelled like honey.  The surface was smooth and shiny, like honey and unlike frozen things.
me:  "Yasha, do you think this is honey?"
Yasha:  "Maybe!  Does it smell like honey?"
me:  "Yes, that's why I asked."
Yasha:  "I guess it's honey, then."
me:  "But... why is there honey?  What happened to the original container?  Why would you keep honey in the fridge, anyway?"
Yasha:  "Maybe Mitka bought it in bulk or something.  Why the fridge?  Well, I don't know, that's where you keep food."
me:  "I guess that makes sense.  Well, good, we definitely don't need to throw this away, so it can go back in the fridge.  This time I'll label it."