DId you know that if you accidentally leave a plastic can of frozen apple juice concentrate in your reusable shopping bags, eventually it will start to ferment, and then after that it will explode and start dripping?
This afternoon, I wondered why the back hallway smelled liked apples.
Cool! You do the neatest experiments!
LOL. Once, I left a loaf of bread inside my re-useable shopping bags (I stack all of them inside one between trips to the grocery store and did not notice it in there). The next week at the checkout, the girl says…Is this yours?? I just about died of embarrassment as she pulled out my mouldy loaf of bread. I quickly blamed my hubby and turfed the bread into the nearest bin, paid as quickly as I could and left. OMG!!!
And let’s not talk about a few weeks ago when I ‘lost’ a package of deli meat after placing the groceries on the back seat of the car. I searched high and low in the car for it to no avail. I shrugged it off thinking I had dropped it out of the bag when I put it on the ground beside the car to open the door. Fast forward 2-3 weeks and the car was really starting to pong. Turns out the meat had fallen into the side pocket of the door, which slides to open, and you can only get to it from the back seat wth the door shut. Of course, when I searched the car it was through the open sliding door and I missed it. Lucky the packaging was still intact, because if that baby had burst, I would have had to sell my car.
Yeah, let’s not talk about that….
Ick. Bet that was fun to clean up.
Oh crap….
yummmmm apple cider….. pass the cinnimon? 🙂
I guess I shouldn’t insert a story along Michele’s lines, about how my husband once spilled a gallon of milk in his car. It was wintertime in Michigan and he has a high tolerance for filth, so he didn’t bother to clean it up. When the thaw came, though, the floor mats began to smell. When he lifted one of them, he found … well, never mind. Suffice to say, I’m not a squeamish person but I shrieked like a stuck pig when he told me what was under there.
Yikes.
He’s a great father and husband, though!
When my twin boys were about 14 years old, the Scout troop made root beer. They bottled it up, each boy receiving several bottles. They were to let it ‘age’ for a couple of weeks. Of course, with two boys, we had twice the stash!
One quiet morning, I heard a loud *bang!*. ‘Bout had a heart attack. I went into their bedroom, and root beer was everywhere… and I mean everywhere! It was dripping from the ceiling, running down the walls, puddling everywhere.
I was awestruck.
Apparently one of the bottles had fermented to the point of exploding, spraying the room with sticky, sweet root beer. The bottle cap had blown right through the lath & plaster ceiling.
I looked for the other bottles, and they appeared to be ready to blow, also.
Had a lot of fun calling the other Mothers to warn them of impending disaster with the bottles of rootbeer.
Not sure if I miss those days or not! : )