This weekend was the first time I'd felt really good in a long time. I thought maybe we could do something fun to mark the occasion of me feeling good. But we didn't really come up with anything that special to do.
Instead, we spent time cleaning out the pantry closet on Sunday. We've only lived in this house together for not quite a year. But some of the canned goods and junk were carry overs from our old apartments. And I know I'm the guiltiest offender of buying a bunch of canned crap because it's on sale or it sounds good at the time. And then I forget about it. And when we're at the store and wonder, "do we have green beans at home?" I usually just err on the side of caution and get another can.
This results in a stockpile of vegetables and soup and fruit that we almost never eat. And this has been my habit for several years. I had cans of chili that were so old they'd changed the labeling at some point. But I pretty much figured that canned goods last forever. Don't they?
Apparently not. Because the other day when I opened the pantry looking desperately for something to eat because we hadn't been shopping in awhile, I saw a mess in there. A can of peaches that I'd had for God knows how long, had exploded. The can swelled up and had leaked this sticky brown botulism juice all over the shelf. And it had soaked in pretty good to all the labels on the cans next to it. That's when I noticed we had 8 cans of the same exact peaches that I don't remember ever actually eating. Yet, I know I bought them because Nat only likes fresh fruit.
I'm not going to lie here. I'm a lazy ass. I saw the fucked up poisonous peaches, and I just closed the cabinet and went about my life. I wasn't going to leave it there forever, but I didn't really feel like doing anything about it just then. But Sunday, Nat told me I had to clean it up since it was gross and disgusting and they were my stupid peaches.
I was a little scared to do this though. I didn't want to die from touching it. We usually have latex gloves under the sink that Nat snags from work. But they were all gone so I had no protection from the poison juice. So I put garbage bags on my hands. You know, the little ones for the tiny wastebaskets you put in the bathroom? I improvised and used those as gloves.
Nat was highly amused over this and she kept telling me I couldn't die from touching botulism juice. Not unless I was cleaning it up with my tongue. Which was definitely not an option I was willing to explore.
I decided that everything on the same shelf was probably toxic though, so I dumped it all in the trash. All the peaches were gone, along with cans of cat food that Nat said a neighbor gave her about 3 years ago and her cats didn't like it. So why did we keep it? Who knows. And we also lost some Rice a Roni that got soaked. And a box of shells and cheese. And three cans of peas. I hate peas. Nat hates peas. Why did we have three cans of peas? Must have been an impulse buy of some sort. One of us must have thought, "I really want to devour a can of peas right now!" And then the moment passed. It's a mystery.
But our pantry cabinet is now clean and scrubbed and disinfected. And also rather empty. There's nothing in there anymore. And I'm going to try real hard not to buy up all the peaches at the store and never eat them. Has anyone else ever had a can of food explode like that? I know the peaches were not as old as the chili I had in there (which I also threw away) and that didn't explode. Thankfully. Because what a fucking mess that would have been.
I was really proud of myself for cleaning this crap and not dying from a toxic botulism cloud. With the way I've been going lately, that would be just my luck. But I thought I was pretty well home free from injury at this point.
At least until I went to take out the bags of trash I collected. I went out through the garage and attempted to open the door. It has this little metal handle you push over and pull up on. But it has a rubber grip on it. Well I pulled up on it with all my might with one hand, while I held the toxic trash in the other hand. The rubber grip slipped off and my hand flew upwards, and I punched the metal door full force.
So now my left hand is a bit swollen and my knuckles are cut open. Good times. It looks like I punched someone in the face, except that probably would have hurt less. But this is just par for the course. Every time I turn around I'm hurting myself. You think I'd be pretty tough and bad ass by now, huh? And yet I still refused to touch a can of peaches without garbage bags on my hands....
Yeah, I'm a total bad ass.



