I opened my mouth to explain why the milk was exploding in the fridge, but my friend was already three minutes into a story about his cousin's dog's grooming appointment. So I just stood there, nodding, watching the dairy volcano in real time. By the time he finished, the milk had achieved its final form: cottage cheese. He asked if I was okay. I said, "Yeah, just listened to your whole thing." He said, "Great, right?" The fridge smelled like betrayal and lactose.