There’s no Milk in the Fridge

I am not sure whether this is a “Man Thing”, but simple expeditions to the fridge can lead to bizarre conversations. You are looking for the milk; you know what the milk looks like; you know where it belongs in the fridge and it’s not there. Conclusion is perfectly obvious: There’s no Milk in the Fridge.

Along comes Hazel and says “What is this?”, pointing out a carton that has “Milk” written on it. The words are said, not so much with a look of triumph (which would be justified), but a sense of weary inevitability, that we “Men” are incapable of such a minor task.

“This isn’t milk. It’s orange juice!!” I say by way of self justification. “Well, it’s got Milk written on it on the front” comes the patient reply.

I am not giving up on this one. “But what is milk doing in an orange juice carton?” There’s no proper answer to this one, as the question is so ridiculous, but Hazel tries. “Ask the manufacturer” or “Trying to catch you out – and succeeding”, might be appropriate responses. “It’s just in a different type of carton. That’s all. You have to read what it says on the packet. It came from the Denner, instead of the Coop”.

THAT’S ALL!! READ WHAT IS SAID ON THE PACKET!! DENNER IS DIFFERENT FROM THE COOP. What are these people trying to do to me? I don’t read the packet. Men don’t read packets, except as some form of desperation. Why would you? Everyone knows what a carton of milk looks like. Aren’t there international standards for this type of thing?

Supermarkets are in on this conspiracy against men. “Migros don’t sell Special K anymore”, I say after a semi-successful shopping expedition. “Where did you look?” comes the obvious question. “Where the Special K normally is. Next to the cornflakes”.

“Did you ask anyone? Perhaps they moved it”.

WHAT? ASK SOMEONE? MOVED IT? What is going on? The Special K has always been next to the Cornflakes. No one consulted me. No one asked me whether it was alright to put Milk in an orange juice carton or to move the Special K. Was there no consultation period? Was there no referendum? Even the Swiss Railways occasionally change their timetables, but only with about a year’s notice.

But no; They’ll just change these things, and watch old Grumpy taken in each time.

So it’s off to the supermarket in a minute to buy some eggs, remembering to be careful to watch that they haven’t packed the cheese in the egg cartons. Ha ha. I’m one step ahead of them on this one.