This morning I poured me a nice huge bowl of Cheerios. Cool, right? Except check it out: the milk I used was pretty questionable. Technically it had expired two days ago, but my feeling is: in a pinch, two days is still within safety limits. As long as it doesn’t taste or smell or look funky.
It looked okay, if not a bit pink. I figured it was maybe the lighting in the room. Nor did it smell funky. And I pretty much always have a stuffy nose, which means I couldn’t really isolate any subtle irregularities in how the milk tasted. There it took me a couple of spoonfuls of Cheerios before I started to register the sourness.
But it was barely sour. I refused to believe it the jig was up. I went in for some more. No, definitely weird. Sour. The entire bowl was compromised. But here’s the thing: what the hell was I supposed to do with the rest of the bowl. Not only had I had fixed myself a pretty massive bowl of Cheerios, I poured way too much milk in there too. I basically had me a heavy trench of grade-A horse feed, and no horse on hand to eat it.
“So for a moment I just sat there looking at all that mucky horse feed, stumped. How does one conveniently dispose of a big milky bowl of Cheerios?”
I couldn’t dump the whole works into the garbage; the milk would create all kinds of chaos in there. When I went to dump the trash it would leak trash juice all over the floor and then I’d have to clean that up too.
What about the sink? Well, that won’t work either, for opposite reasons. The pink clumpy milk would drain fine, but what about the mounds of soggy Cheerios. I don’t have a food disposal thingie. The Cheerios would likely worm down into the drain and stay there until half-a-bottle of Draino nudged it onwards. Or I could have drain cap on before dumping the Cheerios, in which case all the Cheerios would have collected in the sink itself and I could have scooped it up myself.
But that seemed like so much work.
So for a moment I just sat there looking at all that mucky horse feed, stumped. How does one conveniently dispose of a big milky bowl of Cheerios?
And then it came to me all at once. Eureka. It was so freaking perfect.
Dump the whole mess down the toilet bowl. Flush it. Done.
Because—and I won’t go into details here—worse things have gone down there. Soggy Cheerios should be a relatively routine job for the ol’ toilet bowl. The liquid/solid ratio of my bowl of Cheerios was quite similar to that one time I…
“…dumping a full bowl of Cheerios into a toilet bowl can be a guilty thrill.”
Ah, never mind. But let me just say that dumping a full bowl of Cheerios into a toilet bowl can be a guilty thrill. Something just felt so wrong about it, ya know? Afterwards, just looking down at the little huddled islands of Cheerios in the milky toilet water, surrounded by the porcelain mouth-walls of the toilet itself, I recognized how fitting a resting place I’d found for my refugee Cheerios. It was, after all, a “bowl,” was it not?
I bet those Cheerios saw today going a differently in their minds. I always imagine that all the individual Cheerios, huddled in the darkness of the cereal box, wake up each day praying that the Eater show up and choose them for active cereal duty. That, once chosen, once freed from the box, they’d be ferried by the Eater’s hands into a glorious porcelain heaven of cool, white milk. There they can be what they were born to be.
I’m sure today’s Cheerios probably wished they’d just stayed in box.
Readers: What did you think of my solution? Pretty smart, eh?