I spent my 20s riding my motorcycle too fast with no helmet. Not one scratch from years of lane splitting and driving like I was invincible, and somehow I survived to grow up and be an adult in my 30s. But since then, I've always known that when the universe finally takes me back, it'll be for something stupid, like eating bad buttermilk pancakes or tripping on dry pavement on a sunny day and breaking my neck or something.
As I lay in bed with Zoey, with both of us miserable with our tummies, wondering how as an experienced cook, I could've screwed up buttermilk pancakes from a box, it hit me. I figured it had something to do with the buttermilk and the fact that this box sat unopened at a cabin and was subjected to extremes of temperature. A friend suggested that the temperature swings can still kill the powered buttermilk. Even powdered milk can congeal. It made sense to me.
|Her brother, Ty, was sitting near her to comfort her|
What's funny is I don't eat many pancakes as a single guy, and I don't normally buy that brand. I saw "light" but didn't notice the "buttermilk" part. It's still just a theory, but it's the only thing both of us ate the other night. Either way, throwing away any one thing is magnitudes cheaper than an ER visit for either of us.
Now Zoey and I are both back to fighting shape, and the other ones don't look like they are uncomfortable as well. All four are coming with me to the cabin this weekend, where I think I'll mostly store the freeze dried survival / military food my sister had there as the cuisine of choice.
|Normally the bedroom is blocked off because her mommy was very bad, but sick girls can go in there|