And then I caught this virus and lost my appetite and had to choke the cereal down-- yecch blargh-- and now I can't stand the sight of it. *Now* I want the same company's instant oatmeal, what I bought at Christmas because no one had the cereal just around then, and it was yecch blargh until three weeks ago.
This is disconcerting.
Even more so is the sudden inability to read Pratchett at all, and the unlikely craving for John M Ford's Star Trek novels. I mean, I'm glad I have Ford's Star Trek novels to read now that I've got this craving for them- thank you, G; but still-- 'I am changing, fearfully changing.' What next, I wonder: Regencies? westerns? Cyberpunk? (Not the last, I fancy: just finished Tea From an Empty Cup and have no notion of what it was about or why. Got it from some list, now vanished, about SFF novels with protagonists of colour. Err well yes, I suppose.)