Lorenzo's Oil

by mara:



My building has three entrance doors (partly due to safety concerns, partly due to its vintage construction). They all require keys. I live on the third floor, and obviously, there is no elevator. You can imagine the dread that rears its ugly head when the milk starts to run out (which is always since I drink more milk than most other mammals), and I realize I need to go grocery shopping. It takes at least 20 minutes to bring everything from my car to my fridge. An ex-boyfriend with an almost too helpful nature when it came to carrying things was a real luxury at those times, let me tell you. If he lived nearby, I would consider having him help me. He'd probably come if I asked him because I'm just that awesome. Anyway, I usually make it an all or none deal--either i get the litter, the gallon of milk, the carton of O.J., and the canned coke--or i just get chips and bread and make sandwiches a la stacy snieg.(ed: inside joke).

Anyway, I have been keeping these cans of diet cherry coke in the back of my car because they are just too heavy and require a separate trip up the stairs. Plus, the cool air keeps them at a delicious temperature at which I like to drink them. I forgot they were there for a week, and then it was 5 degrees outside.

This morning, I decided to check up on them after I parked. Two of them had exploded, but no liquid remnants were visible, so it must have happened a while ago. One was on the verge. It was completely frozen, and both the top and bottom of the can were expanded to the point of bursting. I stuffed it in my jacket without thinking (because I am retarded before 9 a.m., that's right), and I walked my merry way to my office. Now that it's colder outside, I walk through the hospital instead of through the parking garage. Well, halfway down the hallway, I hear this huge explosion and realize that it's coming from me. Two people completely ducked, and three more people looked at me with fear in their eyes. Once they realized I wasn't a terrorist, they cooled down but looked to me for an explanation. I awkwardly stated, "It's just a can of pop" and walked quickly down the hallway. I hope I never see those people again.

update: I investigated the contents of the can shortly after the explosion and safely in our department's kitchen. It seems the syrup had migrated to the bottom and had frozen separately from the water. The can was completely split down the middle and opened much like a Polly Pocket playhouse. But, hey, if you're going to deal with exploding pop cans, they might as well be frozen contents and not liquid. The cleanup was beautifully simple.