No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk

Inspired by a wave of nostalgia (and my own hatred of carrying home heavy grocery bags), I recently decided to have my milk delivered to my door once a week. Every Wednesday evening, I take my grey cooler and place it down in the entryway of my condo building, and every Thursday morning, I'm greeted with two half-gallons of milk in glass bottles from Chicago's Oberweis Dairy.

Of course, I am usually running late in the mornings, so I completely forget about it until I'm bolting out the door to catch the bus. This morning, as I ran back up the stairs with my cooler, my flip-flop caught on a step, and I faceplanted on the stairs, cushioned by grey plasic and a loud CRACK follwed by the sound of swishing liquid.

My worst suspicion was confirmed when I got back in my condo; one of the glass bottles had shattered and a half-gallon of milk was now floating freely in the cooler. Of course, Walter, one of my cats, thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He proceeded to stick half his body inside and began lapping up milk. Worried about the broken glass floating around, I pushed him away and proceeded to the bathroom where I picked out all the big pieces of glass and dumped the remaining shards and milk out in the bathtub.

By this time, I was running quite late, but I decided I needed to at least rinse out the cooler before leaving. I turned on my tub and was quickly drenched by cold water streaming from the showerhead above. Apparently, the shower switch hadn't shut off when I turned the water off earlier in the morning.

As you can imagine, I ended up being VERY late for work and was reprimanded by my boss. Sometimes milk does NOT do the body good!