I had bought a pound of really good ham and a pound of really good turkey at the store several months ago (SEVERAL) and when I got home, I found we had too much sandwich meat already and I knew we weren't going to even get to this fresh stuff so I threw it in the freezer, not wanting to waste over 20 bucks on sandwich meat. Well, while perusing the freezer yesterday for something, I found the two packs of meat waaay in the back. Took them out and left them on the counter. Looked at it again in a couple of hours, still frozen. I started to wonder how it would be after defrosting.
I went to the store and bought more sandwich meat and cheese because I wasn't sure that it was going to be okay to eat that frozen stuff. My husband came home without going to the dinner he said he was going to, so he was starving and wanting something "healthy" to eat. He's back on his "healthy" kick, drinking protein shakes and releasing toxic fumes as a side effect. He's back on for ONE day so far. Something "healthy" he says. I yell down from the bedroom (because it's late, not exactly dinner time), "I just bought some sandwich meat and cheese" and he says something about finding the "good" bread and he'll make a sandwich.
A minute later, he yells up, "Hey, why does this meat seem WET?" and I thought, "uh, oh. I forgot the meat on the counter." I tell him he must've gotten the frozen stuff, and the good stuff is in the fridge. He says, like a son calling to his mom, "Can you please just come down here??" and I know what he wants, he wants me to make him a sandwich. I stall. Next thing you hear, "YOU CAN'T FREEZE SANDWICH MEAT!! Oh my God, this is NASTY!! Ugh, this smells awful!! Chris, this shit is nasty!! I'm going to throw up!" I go running downstairs, and I'm laughing at his over-reaction. I walk into the kitchen to find mustard on the bread, the sandwich meat open on the counter, the top piece splayed like it's been tossed back... with a big chunky bite ripped out of it. He's hurling, dry heaving into the sink, then the trash. Thankfully he's not actually throwing up, or I would end up throwing up too. Rinsing his mouth like he was poisoned and spitting into the sink while dry heaving. He's mumbling all these incoherent things, among them, "What the f....., you can't freeze that shit!"
Now I'm almost in tears from the laughter that I'm trying to hold in because he is running all around, goes upstairs to the bathroom and starts throwing up. I can SMELL the meat from where I stand, several feet away from the open package. It's obviously BAD. How he couldn't have noticed is BEYOND ME. I look at the packages of meat, DECEMBER 2007. They've been in the freezer for 10 months. I quietly throw it all away and put the bread away. There's no way he will want to eat after this.
I don't know how they got into the fridge. I left them on the counter. All day. I meant to toss them, but I must've forgotten and when the kids came home from school, one of them must have put it in the fridge (the ONE time they clean up??).
I hear Bill come out of the bathroom. He's saying, "I hope I don't die." I say, "you're not going to die, honey." He says, "How do you know?"
I say, "Well, we'll find out one way or another, won't we?"
He's going out to dinner tonight. Definitely.