This past Sunday, straight-line winds of up to 75 miles per hour roared through the Ohio River Valley. We lost power, along with at least 300,000 fellow citizens. We still don't have power.
We lost some trees and some tree limbs, but we're lucky that nothing fell on our houses, selves, cars or pets. The main loss is food--which is sad, in itself. We were able to eat up most of our leftovers, and our freezer is still cold, but there's a lot of food in the cabinet that used to be our refrigerator that will never manifest its destiny. We gave some of the cooked meat to the dog, and we'll probably give him some of the cheese--considering what dogs eat when they think you aren't looking, we're not too worried about his digestion--but the rest has to go.
We've learned some things about food safety in the past few days. We've been told that bad food doesn't always smell bad. We've learned that, even loaded with preservatives, there's only so long you can trust food to be safe. We've learned that there's something in our refrigerator that smells really funky. Not BAD, exactly, just... strange. I suspect it's the large container of bread dough. I wish I had thought to take it to my Mom's (she has a gas stove) and cook it before it got so interesting.
Oh, well. You know what? Every food disaster is good for the compost pile. If the dog doesn't dig it up and eat it first. Luckily, chocolate doesn't spoil.