Wednesday, March 2, 2011

I didn't swallow

Yesterday morning I had a most transgressive experience. I drank milk. Well almost. I didn't swallow.

Let me take you back.
There I was, not quite awake, with a glass of juice in one hand, a coffee cup with milk in the other. I was walking from the kitchen area towards the dining table where my French press was waiting, filled with freshly brewed coffee. But mid-walk (and we're talking a distance of 15 feet tops!) I seemed to have forgot what beverage I had in which hand, and instead of a gulp of OJ I suddenly felt my mouth filled with cold milk. I froze. Looked around for help, and finally resorted to running to the bathroom where I spat it out and rinsed my mouth ever so furiously with water!

It's funny, because I know for a fact that I have drunk milk on its own before. I just can't remember when it became something that struck me as gag-inducing. I mean, I love dairy and will gladly eat a pound of cheese, on its own, without even as much as a crouton on the side. I'll drink milk shakes (gladly!) and café au laits with half a gallon of milk in 'em.

Put pure milk? Na-ah.

2 comments:

PROVINS said...

Har det på samme måde!! Syntes det smager af ko..
Ved godt det er psykiskt.. Men det gør det...

Sarah Carlson said...

Hehe! Tror du har ret. Det smager lidt for meget af ubearbejdet dyr. Eller "ko-saft" som en af mine venner plejer at sige:O)