Nothing Tastes Worse Than Split Pea Soup
When I was about seven years old, my mom made split pea soup for dinner. I would not eat it. I wouldn't even taste it. I sat at that dinner table for hours, not being allowed to leave until I at least sampled it. When I finally fell asleep with my forehead flat on the table, my dad carried me off to bed. I suspect I had nightmares all night about that soup, because to this day, I have hard feelings toward, no stomach for, and certainly no taste for, this loathsome soup.
And although I still have never tasted it, I'm okay with that.
Because I don't think anything good comes when you split peas up.
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