I'm sure it did! It's the same problem. You do the work to make food, and, and what the hell, it is NOT FOOD. It's a betrayal.

The yelling briefly referenced above, when nobody else was upstairs, was in fact a temper tantrum. I was so mad.

I think the problem with the shortening was that it had been kept in a south-facing room during a time when the air conditioner in my office was broken. That air conditioner cools the whole front of the house quite a bit, not necessarily to really comfortable levels, but to well below whatever the temperature would be otherwise. I think the heat shortened, ahem, the product's life.

P.