This morning (sorta: it was still about three minutes to noon), I woke up with a taste for yesterday's leftovers. Donna had made a pasta dish of our last, big tomatoes from the garden, wheel-pasta, salami and some other assorted stuff. Was damned tastey and was looking forward to it.
I came down to look for it in the fridge and didn't find it there. Instead, I eventually found it on the kitchen island where it had been sitting since yesterday afternoon. Granted, it was covered, but I was still a little shakey on eating it.
So, I had my morning pills and grumbled my way back out to the living room to sit down and stew in my no-breakfast-having hunger.
Donna came down and said, "no, I left it out intentionally. There's nothing in it that would spoil and refrigerating would have screwed up the tomatoes." So, we both had a bowl of it. I'm not dead yet and feeling no noticeable ill-effects. So, maybe it will be ok.
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