I don’t like to have problems with my meals. I try really hard to avoid confrontation with food, but sometimes things spin out of control.

We faced two such instances this week. One of them might force me to write a strongly-worded letter to one of my favorite food companies.

Maria decided to make macaroni and cheese with dinner the other night. A few years ago, I managed to convince her that nothing beat Kraft mac and cheese so she headed right for the familiar blue box when she was ready to cook.

Within a few minutes, I could tell something had gone horribly wrong. She went to get a box from the mac and cheese six-pack she had bought a few months earlier and found a problem.

The six-pack was a five-pack. The sneaky people at Kraft had slipped a box with a Capri Sun sample into the mix. They totally fooled us.

And they upset us. What if we hadn’t noticed this before we went for the final box in the package? What if their little marketing ploy kept us from that cheesy goodness for dinner? I don’t even want to think what would have happened then.

Naturally, my wife still had the receipt from the purchase (who saves grocery store receipts from August?) and realized that she did only pay for five boxes. So she only felt slightly ripped off.

I immediately went online because I figured a lot of other people had fallen prey to this same scheme. I figured I would find countless web sites devoted to this trickery.

I found just one. I can’t believe we have grown so complacent as a country that we do not band together when our mac and cheese rights are trampled upon. If I were running for president, I would make this a focal point of the debate.

When you see six boxes in a package of mac and cheese, you expect them to all to contain mac and cheese. I don’t like the precedent this kind of move sets.

My other problem can’t be solved through a letter. I just need to learn when it’s time to lay off the sauce. Pasta sauce, that is.

We had a jar of something other than our usual sauce in the pantry because it was on sale. No biggie, I thought. It’s pasta sauce. What could go wrong?

Curling up in a ball and feeling like death, that’s what could happen. I found out the hard way. I don’t know what kind of spices they put in this stuff, but I tried it twice – I didn’t realize the sauce was the problem until the second time – and felt horrible both times.

I hate when certain varieties of my favorite foods do that to me. I don’t want to have to get picky when it comes to something as simple as pasta sauce. I take pride in my iron stomach.

But now I know I might have to exercise some care when I sit down and eat. Add that to having to carefully check packages before buying them, and I don’t know if eating will ever be fun again.

I just hope I can still grab any piece of candy I want and enjoy it. That’s not too much to ask, is it?