... hearing me say: 'I can eat things that have been stored in the 'fridge that would put anyone else in my family in the hospital'. Up until recently I was absolutely convinced of the truth of that statement. There is always something in there that needs to be put in the trash - and I have no hesitation about depositing mystery items in the garbage. I am pretty good about using a sharpie and masking tape to identify anything that goes in - writing the name and date on each container for reference. Especially not allowing The Man Who Lives Here to ingest items that are in the 'if-fy' range: he has enough health issues without consuming risky foods. But I have long held the belief that I could eat things that would create major gastrointestinal distress in others.
I am ready to admit consuming something I should have not put in my mouth: I was having cereal for breakfast recently, and added milk. I knew the milk was old, having just looked at the date on the carton the day before. But did not hesitate to pour the last little bit in my bowl. A short while later, when I began to feel sort of urpy, I thought to myself: that milk was from Last Year. I spent several hours feeling poorly, but eventually got over the sensation of wishing I could get rid of the suspect dairy product. Meaning that no long term damage was done, plus I will be a bit more cautious in the future.
What I ate last night: Chinese food that was left over from going out on Christmas Day night. The family was gone, heading home, so I suggested we would go to the local Chinese restaurant. There was far too much on my plate, so half of it came home to go in the 'fridge. I sort of forgot about it, until yesterday. Decided I should give it a try before it got any older, lingering around from last year. Sadly, it was not nearly as good as when it was served to me, hot from the kitchen of Chef Lee's establishment. But edible, though I did not eat it all.
I'm not dead yet.
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