I am a firm believer in having manners and acting appropriately in the presence of mixed company. In fact I will go out of my way to be a gentleman whenever possible. That’s the way I was raised and that’s the way I have tried to raise my three children.

Kids need to know things like, don’t take the last piece of fried chicken without asking if anyone else would like it first or, don’t drink out of the milk carton. There are times, however, when it’s downright, OK not to be neighborly or mannerly.

I have been attempting to avoid eating foods that were either too sugary or too greasy. Seemed like a smart thing to do to cut down on the foods that might cause high blood pressure or cholesterol. Today, I ate myself a bowl of bran cereal for breakfast and avoided my usual large portion of scrambled eggs and hash browns.

My wife, Kathy, would be proud. For lunch I had a particularly small helping of rice with some kind of mixed vegetables thrown on top. Have you ever heard the expression, “How big a boy are you?”

I am kind of a big fellow, so about mid-way through the afternoon I was so hungry I could have eaten my own shorts had they been dipped in cornmeal and fried. Breakfast and lunch were not getting me through the day so I was beginning to look forward to evening chow.

It was supper time and I had made my mind up that it would be just fine to allow myself an extra serving of whatever was being served in the chow hall tonight. A day of attempting to cut calories was taking its toll. Bless my heart.

Steam was coming off of a big tray of roast beef strips soaked in some deep thick brown gravy. Next to the beef was a big pile of mashed potatoes. Minding my manners I scooped out a generous portion and proceeded to assemble a glorious plate of supper-time chow. These potatoes were the kind that were made from real potatoes, not straight out of the box.

I placed my tray on the table long enough to retrieve a soft drink from the cooler then proceeded back to dig in. The smell was wonderful. Perfect. It was the bright spot of my day.

After a day of eating nothing but bran flakes and rice I was on the serious side of being hungry. Roast beef cooked at home in the crock pot is hard to beat. The meat just falls apart when stuck with a fork. Strands of beef coated in gravy and swimming in potatoes just like home was sitting before me and I was grateful to the Almighty for my food.

I unpacked my eating utensils from the little plastic bag and positioned my glasses on my face just a little better and I was getting down to business. Beautiful, just absolutely beautiful. There were the familiar strands of beef just like mama makes. There were the potatoes just like my wife makes and dadburnit if there wasn’t a doggone bug just like the front porch light makes.

This was one of those times when it’s kind of OK not to be neighborly. Especially when the cook told me that the bug was added protein. Well there you have it. I quickly decided to escape to the familiar safety of cereal after throwing my plate at the cook because I was obviously still hungry.

Our cereal comes in nice little individually wrapped bowls so I was fairly certain that this food would be free of unwanted critters.

The cereal bowl was opened and ready to receive the ice cold milk from the standard little carton. My appetite was pinging. I couldn’t wait to devour my Frosted Flakes.

As I poured the milk from the carton I quickly noticed that it wasn’t flowing like it should.

The milk was soured and was coming out of the carton in thick chunks! Oh my soul!