Two weeks ago, I offered to cook dinner for the boy at his house. I made the most carb-filled dinner you can imagine – roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes and dinner rolls. The roast beef was made from a Pinterest recipe involving a crockpot and liquid manna (aka Dr. Pepper). After work, I loaded up the crockpot (I have the nifty travel one that has a lid that snaps on – the boy picks on me because I lock the lid in place when its just sitting on the counter), and a bag full of ingredients into the Moozda and headed down the road. I cooked dinner, using the ingredients in the aforementioned bag, and went about life as usual. Then I conveniently forgot to pack up the crockpot and bag until last Monday.
This weekend, my mom made a comment about the crockpot in my backseat. (Okay, okay I use the Moozda as a storage device more than I use it as a vehicle). “Have crockpot, will travel,” she quipped. Then my dad so graciously washed my car for me. He even cleaned out my little trash compartment. He commented on how I had a lot of stuff in there and we all laughed at what a messy person I am.
Then this morning happened. I opened the car door and I swear it smelled like a wet dog had crawled into my car and died. Oh my gosh – it was nauseating. I thought I could deal with it on the short drive to work.. oh, no. I couldn’t do it. So I opened up the back seat door and started digging to find the offensive stench. Can you guess what the culprit was? No? I’ll give you a hint, it was in the little orange canvas tote that was carrying my ingredients.
You see, I like to snack while I cook. Usually it involves an olive here, a slice of cheese there, but this particular evening, I threw in a container of grapes and a container of strawberries. Well I ate the grapes, but the strawberries were forgotten while the boy gave the dog a bath and I mashed potatoes and served dinner. So imagine my surprise when I pulled the container out of the bag. There were the once adorable little strawberries, molding in their own juices. It was so toxic, it had popped the lid off. I didn’t realize something so cute and red and perfect could turn into a brown, squishy mess.
Needless to say, the entire orange canvas tote bag was thrown into the dumpster. I’m mourning the death of half a bag of Yukon Gold potatoes, and my car still reeks of moldy strawberries/dead wet dog. I guess sometimes you have to learn to keep your car clean the hard way.