A box of Honey Nut Cheerios angered me the other night. I was sitting there watching reruns of “The Big Bang Theory” when the sudden need for sustenance swept over me. In other words, my tummy was hungry.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I spied three brand new boxes of breakfast cereal sitting on top of the refrigerator. Depending on the milk situation, I was going to be in sweet, sugary, blissful heaven. You see, I’m kind of finicky when it comes to milk usage. The newer the better is my motto. If the bottle is within a week of the upcoming expiration date, I consider it to be possibly toxic.
To my delight, a brand new, unopened, pristine plastic jug of pure white 2 percent was sitting on the top shelf just waiting for me. I imagine that a broad smile crossed my face as I removed the lime-green plastic bowl from our cupboard because I was about to immerse my taste buds in cerealy-pasteurized heaven.
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