So my wife was in the kitchen, ponderously staring at the third slab of ribs we hadn't devoured. She said, "they smell funny."
I thought "funny" how? I took a whiff. Big, beefy, bouncy & meaty. A little strong, sure, but hey, my olfactory senses aren't the best. Smelled like a dead cow. (Um, probably a little too much).
She says, "I'm not going to eat this." I say, "that's ridiculous, we're not gonna waste the meat." To back up my statement, I corralled a jury composed of my daughter, her boyfriend, my niece and nephew. All took turns sniffing it, one after the other. Consensus was it smelled fine. My daughter's boyfriend laconically shrugged his shoulders, said, "I'd eat it." Of course that doesn't mean a lot as he can eat an entire cow by himself.
So a couple nights ago, I tried some "risky ribs." Blasted 'em in the microwave to bone-dropping perfection. The next morning, I woke up, extremely self-satisfied, told my wife, "See? Nothing to worry about. I survived the potential rip melt-down." She replies, "No way am I eating those." Cockily, the hen in the house, I said, "your loss."
Was I ever wrong.
I visited the bathroom many times later. Extremely unpleasant.
I need to trust my wife's olfactory senses. Tell her she was right. As much as it pains me.