I am running vinegar through my coffee pot, and the smell is at once both sickening and nostalgic. It’s hard for me to breathe in there when the process is going on.
Once, a few years ago — come to think of it, it was whenever we last colored Easter eggs at Kathleen’s — I thoughtlessly picked up the mug of dark liquid on the table in front of me and took a big sip (expecting coffee) then spit it out. It was blue dye! It wasn’t dangerous, of course, and fortunately I thought it was funny and pointed it out to everybody. Elizabeth still tells that story. Couple that with the time I ate a dog biscuit shaped like a chocolate chip cookie. (Same household, different visit.)
Vinegar is supposed to be good for you somehow; some people take a spoonful every morning. I guess it can’t be much worse than some of the cheap wine I drank in my day.