Under the covers, just me and my Capn

From a British woman, posting on an American tourism website:

“Hello,

Right - I've searched but I can't find the answer!

Back at the start of the year I was over in America working. During this time I found a breakfast cereal which I quite liked, but I can't find it in the UK.

I can't remember what it was called in the US.

The only thing I can remember about them was that they looked like little parcels, they were not covered in anything and I can't remember what they were made of either, so I'm really clutching at straws! Anybody help me out?”

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So once I got over the blues last night, the blues from working too long, the blues from hearing sad news of a young death—a former classmate of my daughter’s, the blues from picking?/receiving? a fight with my hubbie, I capped off my evening with a bowling ball-sized bowl of Capn Crunch with milk.

Yup, haven’t eaten that cereal for awhile but it made that last half hour of wake time a crunchy delight. I know. It’s packed with sugar and over-processed flour and preservatives and costs a whopping $4.25 a box at the local grocery.

Ahh, but I put on my favorite sleeping tee-shirt (the Nike All-Star Game East v. West), set the Big Bowl on my knees, and watched the rerun of this week’s Top Chef. I crunched right through Padma’s sorry-ass commentary at the judge’s table, which is no big deal because who can understand her marble-filled mouthings anyway? I skipped down the stairs to add a cup more of the Capn to my leftover, now slightly orange milk. My teeth were gummy from the sweet milk and soggy parcels. I didn’t brush them. I didn’t care. The day was long enough. Let my teeth rot in the moonlight if they wanted; this was my little act of defiance.