I just ate my first bowl of Frosted Flakes in probably two years. It was like a race against time. No sooner had I suppressed fresh memories of ripping the boxtop flap in an effort to open the box and ripping the inside bag down the middle in an effort to open that than I discovered just how quickly today’s Frosted Flakes denature in (2%!) milk. I pined for a bowl of Gritty Kitty. And realized, while shoveling heaps of the wet-hay-like substance into my snarling mouth, that everything involved in a box of Frosted Flakes seems to have gotten seriously thinner. Thinner box. Thinner bag. Thinner flakes.
I may not be the President, I may not be the Pope. But as long as my breakfast cereal stays crunchy in milk, I shall never mope.