When did life become so darn hectic that a fellow can’t even enjoy the most important meal of the day, his breakfast?

Happens every morning. I’ll be reading the paper, buttering my toast and sipping on a cup of coffee when the cell phone rings with a text message from work that absolutely has to be answered, pronto, never mind that I’m trying to put ketchup on my hashbrowns, and right when the traffic light turns from amber to red.

On at least the ketchup front we have some encouraging news to report, and it comes to us from the one name that’s synonymous with the insanely popular tomato-based condiment: Andrew, my 10-year-old son. No, not really. Word this week comes from H.J. Heinz, who actually died in 1919, but who still has a corporation speaking on his behalf. If not overshadowed by Toyota’s promise to fix the gas pedals on the cars of eight million drivers as soon as mechanics can catch up with them, the latest development from Heinz would have been the biggest news story this year in automotive safety.

Heinz believes it has finally perfected a single-serve container of ketchup that actually dispenses ketchup, hallelujah. If popular with consumers, the new design will send those miserable, messy rip-and-squeeze pillow packets to wherever it is that the most annoying little irritants of life are put to blessed retirement, joining TV’s vertical hold and football’s Troy Westwood.    

“The packet has long been the bane of our consumers,” Dave Ciesinski, vice-president of Heinz Ketchup told the Associated Press, whereupon he was immediately nominated for the 2010 Nobel Prize in the fields of both honesty and understatement.

“Tear Here,” it says along a curved dotted line at one corner on packet, helpfully, especially for those consumers who might be otherwise tempted to squeeze until bursting. But of course the packet doesn’t tear. “Gnaw Here” would be a more appropriate instruction to access the ketchup: the smear left to dry at the corner of your mouth, the blob that bloops out onto your shirt and the 17 or 13 molecules that eventually make contact with a french fry per se. Gnaw and repeat.

Ketchup is not the worst condiment. Mustard from a packet leaves a more difficult dry-cleaning problem, vinegar pees and drips willy-nilly, and, as for that chunky green hot dog relish, Spalding might as well likewise sell golf balls packed in garden hose. But only in the case of ketchup are we talking about a Canadian dietary staple.

 According to Heinz Canada, our nation’s current annual consumption — adding up ketchup as a cooking ingredient and a table condiment, taking into account both restaurants and private homes, and, of course, factoring in Andrew — is now up to 75 million litres a year, second only to Finland, a 2.5-litre jug for each and every one of us. Here’s another thing you won’t read every day, a second fact in this column: H.J. Heinz’s first product line was horseradish, and he never tasted ketchup until a trip to Europe during the 1860s, back when the condiment was actually concocted from salty pickled fish, imparting a taste that was, to quote accounts of the period, “like, totally gross.” It was Heinz himself who was struck with the inspiration that, instead of fish squeezings, why not, say, tomatoes? (This was before Clamato.) Tomato ketchup was born, to take the world by storm and baffle package designers ever since.

 Long-necked bottles air lock, leaving the ketchup to be spanked out from behind with only slightly less repetitive vigor than in pro league paddleball. Squeezable plastic containers work fine until three-quarters empty, after which all that comes out are ketchup-scented puffs of air. The bottle with big flat cap so that it could be placed on the table upside-down, making gravity a friend, not foe, of ketchup — those worked, but made Heinz out to be some nincompoop corporate outfit that couldn’t even slap on a label right-side up. And for 40 years now, we’ve suffered the inexcusable single-serve ketchup packet. Even the fast-food industry is fed up and embarrassed. Most times when you pull up to the take-out window, you have to specifically ask for ketchup. The attendant looks right, glances left, ducks inside and returns with two fistfuls. Take them and go, man! Go! Get out of here, for gawdsakes, and take those crappy little condiment envelopes with you!

The new design from Heinz is similar to the wee tubs of marmalade and jam you see on restaurant tables, except softer, more squeezable. At one corner is a peel-off tab for those who wish to tip, and at the other end is a bend-off nipple for those who prefer to squirt.

Selected test markets in the U.S. already have the new packages. A full introduction is planned for this fall. At long last, our nightmare could be over.

Ron Petrie is a humour columnist with the Regina Leader-Post