I stopped by the grocery store in a rush a few days ago to pick up a few necessities. You know, eggs, bread, milk, the usual stuff.

This morning, I finished the last of the milk (the milk I already had) and reached in the fridge for the new milk, ripped the top off, and poured it right into the almost-full glass I already had.

Before I go any further with this narrative let me just say that I LOVE milk. A day without milk is like a day without sunshine in my book (sorry orange juice marketers) and breakfast without milk just isn’t right. It would be like crackers without cheese, a movie without popcorn, CSNY without Y. (It’s been years and I’m still not over that one.)

I digress.

Next, I took a big gulp of my beloved milk and what to my wondering taste buds did appear?

BUTTERMILK.

I HATE buttermilk! Except in biscuits, of course. And, ranch dressing.

So, to the twit that stuck a jug of buttermilk in with the sweet acidophilus …

Bad move.

Very bad move.

On the brighter side, breakfast with Dr. Pepper ain’t too shabby.

But, what the heck am I going to do with a gallon of buttermilk?