Waiting for Gouda

There’s nothing more upsetting than opening up a good bottle of merlot and realizing you don’t have any good cheese to enjoy it with.

I had a bit of brie in my fridge, but I was really in the mood for some smoked gouda.

I thought, by chance, my servant might have accidentally put the gouda in my fruit bin by accident, so I got on my knees and shuffled through the bottom of my fridge. I searched all over the place, but couldn’t find anything acceptable.

It was during that mad moment of searching for smoked gouda when I realized what people addicted to drugs must feel like. You not only want the drug (or gouda), but you’ll do anything to get it.

I said a short prayer to quell my hungry mind, and decided the humble route would be to just eat the brie.

Such is the life of the humble.