I had not planned for this to be a point-counterpoint sort of evening, but the facts speak for themselves. Exercise may help tilt one's calorie balance away from the pizza in one's mouth, but there is no Antifood in my immediate vicinity as overpowering as a hot plastic bag.
In a truly bold move (a Truly Bold Move), my spouse decided to try storing lettuce and rashes on the countertop like fruit. His logic stated that they were unrefrigerated on display in the farm stand, and therefore they could be stored unrefrigerated at home. In the summer heat. In plastic bags. In our kitchen. It was a bold experiment, and I respect a little risk-taking, now and then.
But just now, just this very evening, not minutes ago, I approached the produce hoping that his experiment had yielded the desired results--unchanged, room-temperature, farm-fresh salad fixins'.
Goodness no.
In a mere 30-something hours, the radish leaves had disintegrated impressively. The smell rivaled a cat box in organic horror, but was entirely vegetarian. I washed the radishes and put them in the fridge, but I cannot eat them. They will likely need to be replaced.
Oh, the horror.
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