In a World Gone Mad...

Is it just me, or has the world truly gone mad?


No, it’s not about the oil spill in the Gulf. Wait, did I just call a 20 million gallon a day gusher a spill? Yikes, I did, and it’s still not even about that.

It’s not the lunatic fringe elements of the world trying to get their hands on nuclear weapons, nerve gas, or other weapons of mass destruction.

It’s not the massive and horrific issue of human trafficking, selling women and children into a sexual slavery that is pretty much incomprehensible. Although it should be.

It’s not the rampant use of handguns in this country used to murder an estimated 13,000 people every year.

It’s not about the 100,000 people who die EVERY YEAR in hospitals due to medical ERRORS.

It’s not about the fact that more people will show up to protest cruelty to a dog than cruelty to a woman or child.

It’s not about the fact that I’ve carried this on much too long, and I should have gotten to the point long ago. Sue me.

It’s about this. This packet of “Non-dairy Coffee Creamer”. Exhibit A, your honor.

I’m lactarded. I’ve said it before, but it’s nothing to dwell on, and it’s not as if I’m complaining about some horrible disease. Big whoop—I can’t drink milk or milk products any more. So I miss cheese and I miss ice cream (big time) and I even miss milk itself, but hey, as Patsy Cline once said, (or at least Jessica Lange said it in a movie (“Sweet Dreams”) playing Patsy Cline) “People in hell want ice water, but that don’t mean they get it.” So I suck it up and deal with it.

One of the consequences of said lactardation is that I can’t have cream in my coffee. I use Coffee-Mate at home, but on the road, it’s not usually available.

So one recent morning, en route home from my son’s wedding, in a hotel breakfast buffet, I picked up the little packet of powdered stuff that I normally stay an arm’s length away from. I don’t know what possessed me to take it, but I guess the devil made me do it.

My husband, the Center of the Universe, noticed me flicking it with my index finger, preparing to rip it open. “Desperate?” he asked.

“Must be,” I muttered, and I began to rip the little envelope apart.

Whoops—just in time I caught sight of the bold face words at the bottom of the back of the packet. I thought, “Hmm. Perhaps I picked up the wrong thing.” I flipped it over in my hand, and revisited the front of the packet. No, that’s what I was going for.  It does actually say "non-dairy."

Now do you see my problem? The world has truly gone mad. It’s non-dairy, but it contains milk. Okay, what the what???