Cereal Wasteland

I'm going to admit upfront that I am the kind of caddish husband who crabs about chores that I don't have to do. Case in point, grocery shopping.

In all fairness to me, I used to do the family grocery shopping. Yup, I'd cram the two snotbags in the cart and proceed to collect food, mostly not at random. I must have done a bad job of it because Wifezilla politely took over the chore. Maybe it was all those unlisted Ding Dongs I threw in. I wasn't trying to do a lousy job so that I wouldn't have to grocery shop anymore; I just like Ding Dongs.

Now, Wifezilla has successfully cut off my Ding Dong supply line. But at the same time, she's mangling my cereal selection. Right now, my only choices are Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cocoa Pebbles, or some Frosted Mini-Wheats that seem to be topped with some mysterious pink coating that is supposed to taste like strawberry.

Though she claims otherwise, I've informed her of the cereal staples: you've got your Captain Crunch, your Honeycombs, your Pops. In a pinch, I'll even stoop to eat Honey Nut Cheerios. You can't stray from the staples!

But stray she has, and now I'm daily projectile vomiting the contents of my breakfast across the room in spectacular fashion.