Monkey Surrenders to Cheese

For the past few weeks, I've been working my way through the cheese section at the Harris-Teeter. Not the type of selection we'll find at a Lyon fromagerie, obviously, but not bad for a grocery store in a small town in North Carolina. I just don't want to come off as a complete philistine once we get to France.

My findings thus far:
I like cheese.
I like most cheeses.
Morbier cheese smells like feet. No, feet with jungle rot. I'm running the air purifier next to where I was sitting when I opened it. V is insisting I eat the rest of it outside.

(No, we haven't heard back about our visas yet.)