If you want to change my mood from grumpy to ecstatic, all you need to do is give me a big chunk of cheese. My favorite kinds are probably Gouda and Swiss, although I have to say that the holes in the latter bother me a lot. I don’t even understand how they got there. There are certain types of cheese I find rather repulsive, especially the kind with the mildewy look, but other than that: I love cheese!

I guess you can say that I’m a cheese addict. Now and then I lie in wait for my Little Rib to exit the grocery store so I can yank the bags from her and devour the cheese, slice by slice, right out of the package. I assume this obsessive-compulsive disorder is rooted in my childhood. At home a slice of cheese always had a designated slice of bread. Never, under no circumstances, were we allowed to eat just a plain slice of cheese. That was strictly verboten. Every time I got caught violating that rule my allowance was cut down to zero.

I don’t remember how my sister was able to manage. Maybe she never liked cheese, which would explain why her childhood was much more pleasant than mine. Guided by my uncontrollable cravings I used to crawl into the kitchen in the middle of the night. One time I was a little over-hasty and I bumped into the kitchen table with my shoulder. Oh boy, did I get in trouble. Up to this day I don’t get my weekly allowance!

I’ve been told that cheese causes flatulence. That might very well be but I wouldn’t know because I can’t recall which came first, the cheese or the flatulence. However, a strong wind from down south will instantly ruin anybody’s appetite and I won’t have to share my cheese. But I’m exaggerating now; I would never share cheese with anybody. Guests in our home are not permitted to set foot in the kitchen and we only offer dry bread for snacks. Sandwich meat cannot be found here. Why bother? There’s no cheese in it!

When my Little Rib is cooking I always make sure that at least one of the side dishes include some type of cheese. Oh, and melted cheese puts me in a state of bliss. Chicken breast with melted cheese on top … yummy! Isn’t life great? I love it so much that I could even put melted cheese on my toothbrush.

Moments that should never pass are those in which my Little Rib prepares a huge plate of cheese for our TV nights. She puts a lot of effort into it, making little toothpick skewers with cheese and grapes. Just for that I will love her forever! I always throw the grapes behind the couch, but it’s the thought that counts.

Today she told me that I was screaming in my sleep last night. Several times, actually, and despite her trying to calm me. Apparently someone in my nightmare must have found my secret stash of cheese. How scary! But it’s a good thing that I don’t remember anything. This could have scarred me for all eternity! Just to be on the safe side I will never let anybody come into our house again.

This entry was posted by Michael Meyn on Sunday, April 30th, 2006 at 1:42 am and is filed under Meyn's World. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or a trackback from your own site.