Cereal Killers!

[athelind]

I think that if there's one thing I hate more than any other, it's Not Finding Something That Should Be Right There.

Sometimes, that's a matter of not being able to locate Something I Just Had In My Hand. That pisses me off. In fact, it's probably the single most consistent trigger of my rather volcanic temper.

Sometimes... it's going to the pantry for something I've been saving as a special treat, and discovering that someone else has casually devoured it, and made no effort to either replace it or inform anyone that it's no longer there.


In my bachelor days, I had that problem -- a pack of cold cuts in the fridge would last maybe 36 hours before the vult... um, roommates devoured them and left nothing. A few years back, when Quel's daughter and her Significant Other were living with us, I just stopped buying those little things that I'd save for myself (most particularly Pop-Tarts), since, by the time the urge took me, the boxes would be empty.

It's funny. If there's one thing for which my online persona is infamous, it's having a voracious, insatiable appetite. Man, you should meet the people I've ROOMED with.

Now, as readers of quelonzia's journal know, her other daughter and her Significant Other move in with us recently, and over the holidays, our grandson was staying with us as well. I thought I'd prepared for that well. We had an ample supply of goodies -- and I'd switched to Soy Milk, which nobody else would drink. No staring at a dry bowl of cereal like something out of a "got milk?" ad for me!

This morning I woke up with a headache -- a dehydration headache, thanks to running the electric heater in our bedroom all night. It's exactly like a hangover, without the dubious pleasure of having any alcohol the previous evening. (Oddly, I almost never wake up with hangovers after I have been drinking.)

So, I greet the day feeling beyond lousy. A few hours later, thanks to Mr. Kirkland and his copious bottles of generic aspirin and acetaminophen, my cranium no longer feels like it's about to explode, and I decide I could actually manage some food.

As part of my ongoing efforts to bring my cholesterol down, I've been breakfasting on high-fiber cereals. Primarily, I've worked my way through an ill-concieved amalgamation of four or five different granolas and bran cerealsl, one of those unsuccessful experiments one sometimes falls into when one discovers that an unlikely combination is better than one expects -- "wow, if that's good, let's add this, too!" It's... edible, but not excellent. And it's CRUNCHY. This morning, Crunchy Did Not Sound Like A Good Thing.

One of the few cereals in our recent High Fiber Grocery Trip to avoid the ignonimous fate of The Granolathon was a box of Total Raisin Bran. I like Raisin Bran. It's nice and high-fiber and tasty. It's also Comfort Food -- it was the cereal I ate most often growing up. I was saving it until I'd worked my way through The Granolathon, as something of a reward, and to make sure that I did consume the rather expensive blend of premium cereals instead of just letting it lie eternally in its plastic bin, awaiting the time that the Stars Are Right to... wait, no, that's Cthulhu.

I digress. Chronically.

So... I hurt. I was sick all last week, and now, when I'm finally over that, I wake up with an unearned, unjust hangover. I don't want crunchy granola stuff. All I want is a nice bowl of raisin bran. Comfort food. The thought makes me happy. Despite everything, it's going to be a Good Day.

Guess what's not in the pantry?

Comments

BUMMER!

[r-caton.livejournal.com]

I sympathise whole-heartedly with addition of that feeling when you don't worry about something because you know EXACTLY where it is.....only....when you get there it ISN'T. And because you were SURE ...you haven't the slightest idea where to look even if the trail weren't months cold by now anyway.
Folks wonder why I have everything all over my workbench...I reckon if it's in plainish sight it isn't going to go AWOL.
I blame Mum....if it fits the hole it can go there and it's tidy as far as she's concerned, and she can forget she ever saw/touched/heard of it. And she will, you know. That's why I've got 9 pairs of pliers and haven't seen my analogue meters in 12 months...

Incidentally I recommend generic muesli mixed with Cheerios...plus a multivit tablet in the morning

[chrissawyer.livejournal.com]

My roomate is still friends with the ex-roomates who used to live here. They come over and drink all my sodas. My roomate apoligises, and says he will replace them. But then he gets busy, and forgets. And I feel weird asking him when he is gonna replace my sodas.

I keep thinking of making signs that say not to touch my sodas, but that's gay. I had an idiot stepdad who used to do that, and I always hated it. So, yeah... I need a fridge in my bedroom. ;)

[hitchkitty.livejournal.com]

No no no. A sign saying not to touch your wine spritzers, THAT would be gay.

[foofers.livejournal.com]

When we were kids, my siblings and I would keep secret stashes of Pop-Tarts hidden under our beds. Maybe you could try that. Or a safe.

[baxil.livejournal.com]

I sympathize, because I've never lived alone in my life, and usually I have not so much control over the fridge. I've learned to hide the snacks in my room, but my few attempts to buy and save refrigerated or frozen comfort food for the last year have all similarly come to nothing. I feel your frustration.