Call me old, but sometimes I can’t keep track of what I’m doing.
Last week, I made two trips to Sprouts. First, my usual grocery run. While I was there, I noticed grass-fed ground beef on sale, but failed to buy any.
Later: It was such a deal. What was I thinking?
So, when I was in the area a couple days later, I popped in again for the ground beef. A shelf tag still showed the “smokin’ deal” price… but all the packages were marked as regular ground beef. There was not a single grass-fed pound in sight.
By now, I was in a beef mood, so I looked over some good-sized roasts. I picked one up and hefted it, thinking of the delicious spicy mesquite rub I’d use. Next thing I remember, I’d been around the store for vegetables and orbited back to the meat section, having decided to stock up on ordinary ground beef and make spaghetti sauce. Ah, here’s a 2.3-pound package.
Perfect.
At home, I stashed the perishables in the fridge and got busy doing other chores.
The next day, I considered what to cook. The spaghetti sauce, or the mesquite roast?
Yummmmmmm…. mesquite….
Roast, it is!
Out came the slow cooker. I slathered the inside with olive oil, plugged it in, and turned it on High. Now, to the fridge, where the meats still sat in their plastic grocery bag on the middle shelf.
I reached in and pulled out…
2.3 pounds of ground beef.
Retrieved the bag.
No roast.
I had certainly bought that hefty beef roast. What had become of it? Maybe it was in the freezer?
Nothing.
Seriously, I went out to the garage to see whether the roast was decomposing in the 90-degree back seat of my car.
Right now, the slow cooker is all oiled up and no place to go, and I’m haunted by the phantom beef roast that–surely–must be around here somewhere!… unless I put it back in the meat case and never actually bought it.
Hmmmm… I wonder how mesquite spaghetti sauce would taste?
Your turn: Has anyone else had a senior moment? I mean, if you can remember it…
Thanks for reading,
Jan
Senior moment? I’ve been doing things like that all my life.
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Me too… or at least as far back as my “senior” year in high school.
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