HONEY, WHAT’S THIS CANCEL CULTURE ALL ABOUT?

I wake at the same time every day. My wife tells me if I got up earlier, I could get more done. She also tells me if I got up later, I might not be as tired at the end of the day. But I wasn’t having it. The time is the time.

I pour the same beige-colored and square-shaped cereal into the same striped bowl every weekday morning, and if I don’t eat it quickly enough, it grows soggy. Beating that sogginess keeps the trains on time. On Saturdays, I eat waffles and always use the same syrup. The company is going to yank my syrup off the shelves, so I stockpiled a couple decades-worth in the basement — right next to the toilet paper. No one is going to tell me how to sweeten my Saturday mornings now that the kids aren’t around and no one watches cartoons. They were too young for that puppy patrol show, and I’m thankful for that — I don’t know if I could handle something else to mourn.

I read the local paper, but I also get The Times and The Journal on weekends. I don’t bother with certain writers and sometimes entire sections get recycled without me looking through them. I could probably read it all online, but I refuse to cancel my subscriptions.

The wife made me a sandwich once that I refused to eat. She used the wrong mustard. This happened at a restaurant also and is why I now ask for mustard on the side. I have to…