No Use Crying Over Spoiled Milk

Late last Winter I was on my way home from band practice when I noticed that I desperately craved cereal. Late-night snacking had always been a hit or miss for me as I often found myself too tired to even make the food I craved. Band practice had run late; It was probably about 10:00 pm when I finally got home. I was so hungry! Yet so tired. I juggled my options and decided that instead of just retiring and sleeping without having satisfied my appetite an odd desire for cereal, I would make myself a bowl of fruity pebbles, quickly eat them to satisfy my hunger and tastebuds, then head to bed.

When we pulled into the driveway, I slowly made my way out from the passenger seat, whispering a “thank you”, “love you”, and “goodbye” to my nana who graciously drove me to band practice each week. I stumbled my way to the back of the car after clumsily slamming the passenger side door. Opening the trunk, I heaved my guitar from the mountain of random items collected in the back from over the years. It felt heavier than usual and I knew I was pretty tired from the strenuous day of school and a long practice session for the band. I tiptoed across the icy driveway as the car pulled away and my mum opened the front door. Working my way up the slippery steps, I handed her my guitar and helped shut the door.

“I’m so hungry…”

“And tired telling by the way you just wobbled in here,”

I made my way to the kitchen, lazily making conversation.

“How did band practice go?”

“Good.”

“Did you guys work on anything new?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yeah.”

And so on.

I opened the cupboards to look at my options. Ah yes, Fruity Pebbles. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, I placed both on the table and took a deep breath. I was so exhausted. My plan for the rest of the night consisted of quickly making this bowl of cereal, taking my meds, brushing my teeth, and sleeping before I even hit the pillow. I grabbed my pills from the bathroom and the milk from the fridge. Pouring just enough Fruity Pebbles into the bowl to satisfy my hunger, I enjoyed the sweet smell of high fructose corn syrup. The milk went in next with and I quickly grabbed a spoon from the drawer behind me. Finally, it was time to eat!

The next moments were filled with the bliss of finally eating food! The cereal was completely demolished in a matter of minutes, each crumb was eaten, each droplet of milk drank right up. I was happy, full, and exhausted. In a hurry to get to bed, I rinsed my dishes and put away the milk and cereal. And with that, I took my meds, brushed my teeth, and fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

I woke up the next morning to an awful smell. Something stunk… badly. Honestly, I just figured it was past due time for a shower. I got up and grabbed my bathrobe and towel, noticing the usual school morning commotion downstairs, but something was different; There was an audible flurry of activity, not uncommon to my household on such a morning, but it was violent and hurried. Halfway down the stairs, I noticed my parents looking under furniture and opening cabinets. The smell was intensified as I descended the full length of steps.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“The smell,” they replied in unison.

The trashcan was emptied, full bag already in the dumpster outside, the dogs were clean, the floor tidy, nothing dirty or smelly to be seen… until my mum opened the cupboard.

“Do you think we have mice?” she asked, “They could be pooping in the-“

And that’s when we saw it. It wasn’t mouse poop stinking up our cupboards, or stinky dogs, or trash. Sitting above our heads, next to the Cheerios, was an almost full gallon of milk. My dad gagged, my mum wrinkled her nose, “How did that get there?” she asked.

I had a faint idea, but had to see it for myself first. I opened the fridge and sure enough, there they were. The Fruity Pebbles. “No one checked the fridge for rotting food?”

“No, our problem is spoiled milk and how it got in the cupboard,” my mum replied.

I took the cold cereal box from the fridge and held it up for her to see. By this time she was removing the milk gallon and bagging it up to be thrown away, my dad had gotten over his nausea, and both were able to see the cereal box as I held it up and motioned to the fridge. Oh.

“Mistakes were made.”

The milk was disposed of, kitchen Febreezed, Fruitloops unthawed, and eventually, the area smelled descent. I explained to my parents the exhaustion of the night before and my lazy mistake, ashamed and embarrassed, a little watery and tired first thing in the morning, but was comforted by their carefree laughs. It’s a funny story to look back on now, but that smell will be forever imprinted in my nose, reminding me to pay attention when putting away food and not to cry over spoiled milk.

Photo by alberthuynhphoto on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND