I’ve lost a pound of ground beef. Oh no. Oh no. Who misplaces raw meat? Who does that? More to the point, WHERE IS IT?? Okay, don’t panic. DO NOT PANIC. Breathe. It is here somewhere. Oh, but maybe not. Did … did it perhaps roll (I had to buy it in a prepackaged roll—a thing I normally hate—because I was at Wal-Mart, and their regular packaged beef is awful on more than one level) out of the grocery bag in the trunk of the car? If so, that’s bad, because the day after I bought it was pretty warm. But it’s freezing now, so at least it can be disposed of with little fuss.
I don’t think it did roll out of the bag, though. I think I would have seen it. So … if I were a pound of ground beef, in this house, where would I be? I knew I was going to use it within a few days, so the sensible place would be the refrigerator. Not in the fridge. Okay … then the fridge freezer. Nope, not the fridge freezer but OMG this thing looks like a hidden object game scene; I need to clean it out. And when is the last time I vacuumed the coils, anyway? I’ll just grab the vacuum real qui—STOP. Distraction is the enemy. GROUND BEEF.
So. Not in the fridge. Not in the freezer. We are at DEFCON 3, people. Beef, beef, where’s the beef? I look around in my various stashes of plastic grocery bags, just in case I inexplicably put them away without noticing they weighed a pound. This would be unusual, even for me, but at this point I have to start considering the options. But no; all bag stashes are light and fluffy, as is proper.
I’m getting concerned. Normally, of course, after three days in the house, any raw meat left at room temperature would be immediately, wretchedly, vomitously detectable. But maybe not this, since it was a sealed roll. So the stench might be building up inside, just waiting to begin leaking out, a nasty little E. coli surprise party with me as the guest of honor. Aw, for me? Guys, you shouldn’t have.
I look around the kitchen, on the island, on the counters, but if it were there I would see it immediately. Right? Well, no … this is me, but I looked three times. Did it perhaps roll onto the floor, missed as I was putting away the groceries? I look around. No.
All right all right. Sigh. This … this might be crazy, but what if … what if I put it in the chest freezer? I never do that with stuff I’m going to use soon, but just in case. Maybe for some reason I did this time. Please, please, please let it be in the chest freezer. I walked into the laundry room/pantry, past the somewhat disorganized shelves of canned goods, past the basket of laundry that’s been sitting there unfolded for … a while, ’round the corner to the freezer. I open it, and there, mysterious in its opacity, is a white plastic grocery bag. Daring to hope, I look inside.
YES! VICTORY IS MINE. There is the ground beef. WHEW. We are all good again. Emergency averted! I remember now: I was in a hurry when I got home, so I just took all freezable stuff, bagged it together, and popped it in the chest freezer. I pull out the ground beef and put it on the island to thaw for yesterday’s dinner.
Which is where I found it, this morning. Taunting me with its “no longer edible” status. Not. Even. Kidding.
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