It’s been a nutty few weeks. Retractable sinus infections, day job drama, family chaos, and winter weather that can’t decide if it’s winter or spring or fall…
Also a furnace that may or may not have been trying to kill us. (The furnace was fine, but my ongoing sinus issues have created a problem with my sniffer, prompting emergency checks of our major appliances—long week, folks. Lots of “Are you sure you can’t smell that?” going on.)
Add to this the War. (Enough about that. Moving on with this silly, distracting post.)
Moving on to our black banana butt issues.
I kid you not.
Black as night and nasty as you can imagine (The bananas’ tail ends, not our personal tail ends… Gotta watch those dangling modifiers and unclear descriptors. They’ll get you dirty-minded folks all stirred up.)
At first I thought I’d bought a bad batch. It happens.
But they were fresh—the green kind of fresh because I knew we wouldn’t need them for a couple of days. I always hang the banana bunches on a rod in my kitchen. They look nice there. All visible, within reach, and inviting.
And then.
Black butts.
They weren’t turning black from the stem down. They weren’t ripening with brown splotches uniformly. Black as ink from the bottom tips, the rot creeping upward.
With ooze and everything.
I threw them out and scoured the area.
And bought more bananas. A little riper, a little more yellow, because it was a day or so later and we would be eating them soon.
I hung them on the rod again.
Aaannd… you guessed it. Black banana butts.
How is it I can’t buy a good bunch of bananas anymore?
I used to base my decision on which bunch of yellowy goodness had the most impressive movie advertising sticker. Call me crazy—many have and many will—but I found shopping for this elongated fruit much more fun when Dole or Chiquita decided to adorn them with fun Disney or Avenger characters.
Don’t slam it—these series runs were even listed on eBay for a time. I’m not sure if they still are.
You can read my original Banana Stickers! post if you so desire.
But this was nuts! Two batches.
Then we figured it out.
One of the felines—we didn’t know which one at the time—had been gnawing on the ends of the bananas. We discovered tiny puncture marks along the peel where the black grew and spread. Tiny tooth marks.
Someone has a new hobby. (Turns out it’s Malachi Maxwell with the fruit fetish. We caught him mauling a Granny Smith Apple the other day.)
So. No more bananas hanging beautifully on the kitchen rod.
Now we must store our bunches in the cabinet.
Do you know what happens when you store bananas in the cabinet? No one remembers there are bananas in the cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind.
And we end up with brown banana butts. Actually, the whole peel turns brown. If Grandma were around, she’d tell me to make pudding or banana bread with the aged fruit. Or to cut the black oozing ends off the bunch and eat them anyway.
Ummm… no. One can’t unsee a black banana butt such as those Malachi created.
And I don’t cook. I wouldn’t have the ingredients on hand for pudding or bread, nor would I go shopping for those items on purpose.
I don’t cook.
That’s why the cabinet isn’t opened that much.
And why we have such a banana issue.
I’m looking into a citrus spray for our countertops to avert the cats from surfing their way into trouble. Hopefully before they learn how to use the toaster.
But, knowing my gang, they’ll enjoy the citrus, learn how to open the fridge, and partake of the Hub’s orange juice and clementine selections.
Here’s hoping your week runs smoothly, no matter what oddball challenges you face.
And that your bananas are perfectly enjoyable right down to their butts.
