Kitchen drama today: A package of raw chicken leaked all over a shelf in the refrigerator. A river of salmonella! In the fridge! Nightmare!
"What a disaster," I wailed.
"Why did it leak?" asked Jerry-the-scientist, examining the package as it dripped blood on the kitchen floor.
"The plastic bag didn't have a twist-tie! And it was upside down, oh, God!" I rooted around under sink for Soft Scrub with Bleach.
"This doesn't usually happen," he mused.
"Throw it in the sink! Aaaaargh!" I pointed to the sink like he didn't know where it was.
He dropped the package in the sink. Then he went back to the fridge and extracted a plastic bag of bread that was sitting in a pool of chicken blood. He put it down on a formerly uncontaminated counter, near the dish drainer full of clean dishes.
" Aaaargh! No!" I cried. Everywhere I turned: more chicken blood. I washed the refrigerator shelf three times with Soft Scrub.
It took me 25 minutes to decontaminate everything and transfer the bread to a clean plastic bag. I could have strangled the butcher.
Does this resonate with anyone but my sister, who was also raised by a Food Poisoning Phobic (our dad)? I nearly called her, but I was too busy wiping every surface in sight with Soft Scrub. Now I need extra-rich handcream--and maybe a drink.
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