It was 7:30 on a recent Saturday
morning. For the first time in weeks I did not have any urgent plans or
appointments. I could relax all morning. For some odd reason, I had awakened
briefly at 4 a.m. thinking about breakfast. (OK, it’s not that odd, especially
for someone who insists on four square meals each day, plus multiple snacks in
between.) I drifted back to sleep with visions of pancakes and French toast
dancing in my head.
When I finally woke up and made my way
into the kitchen, I saw a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the cupboard. Mmm, I
thought, very tasty, and a lot less work compared to pancakes or French toast.
So, I emptied the remainder of the box into a big bowl, then opened the
refrigerator and grabbed the carton of almond milk. When I picked it up I
realized right away the carton was very light. I held the carton in front of me
and gently moved it in a circle so the milk would slosh around. Six decades of
experience as a breakfast cereal aficionado kicked into gear, and I
instinctively made a few instantaneous measurements and calculations. After a
moment, I smiled and murmured, “Oh yeah, there’s just enough milk in here for
one more bowl of cereal.”
I joyfully poured the milk into the
bowl, and not surprisingly, I was exactly right: just enough for one more
rather jumbo-sized serving. I then grabbed a big spoon and shoved it deep into
the pile of cereal. Oh boy, I thought, this is going to taste great!
Being the environmentally conscious
“green” fellow that I am, I decided first to rinse out the empty carton and
then put it in the recycling bin with the empty cereal box. This slight pause
allowed the anticipation to grow as my first huge spoonful of delectable cereal
drew nearer and nearer. My mouth began to water.
As I turned on the faucet to begin
rinsing out the carton, I noticed some dark green splotches on the little
plastic spout. “What the…” I said, and looked closer. Oh no, mold! And there was
more on the inside of the carton, too. Yuck, this is not what I had in mind
when I described myself as a “green” fellow. I glanced at the expiration date
on the edge of the carton. Last month! Rats!
I quickly turned toward the lovely bowl
of cereal and swirled the spoon. The milk was all white, no sign of green.
Instantly, a titanic battle began to rage within me. My stomach declared, “It’s
fine! C’mon, let’s eat!”
But my brain said, “No, silly, the milk
went bad. He’ll get sick.”
My stomach replied, “Well, how sick are
we talking? He doesn’t have to go anywhere today. He could spend the afternoon
laying on the couch, close to the bathroom.”
My brain rolled its eyes and said, “Oh, that’s
ridiculous. Don’t you have any self-control at all?”
My stomach defiantly exclaimed, “No,
that’s not my job! I’m here to make sure this poor lad gets enough sustenance
each and every day.”
“You mean those four square meals and
multiple snacks?” my brain said sarcastically. “He certainly doesn’t look
malnourished.”
My stomach pleaded, “C’mon, c’mon! He
won’t get sick. Just look at that cereal. It’s a thing of beauty!”
Mustering up a herculean amount of will
power, with my hand quivering with conflict, I finally dumped the whole bowl
cereal into the trash. My brain nodded solemnly, while my stomach shed a quiet
tear.
I had to settle for a bowl of stale
Cheerios covered in orange juice. But you know, it actually tasted pretty good.
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