Limburger Hit and Run

I've decided not to ditch this blog after all.
By wild popular demand (2 or 3 Etsyians), I will relate one of my limburger stories. That I have more than one gives pause. This one involves what I might almost consider familial treachery - but without intent - so ultimately, I could accuse my mother of little more than Negligant Assisted Limburger Consumption in the 3rd degree (probably more of a misdemeanor).
Several years ago, my mother bestowed on me a package of limburger she'd picked up while shopping. I'm not one to ask questions about handouts, so I took it home and we ate some eventually. Days later, a thought blossomed... Why would my mother buy a package of limburger, which she doesn't eat, just to give to me, not even knowing if I'd eat it?
At my next visit, I asked why she'd bothered to buy the cheese. She replied in a quite offhand manner, "Oh, I didn't buy it. I found it in the parking lot." !!! When pressed for details, she freely offered them. My jaw hung open and I can remember only a few pieces of her explanation....phrases such as:
"It couldn't have been there that long" and
"It was in the slush, but I cleaned it off" and
"The outer box was fine, there were no marks on it" and
"Well, the other car hit it, but it wasn't driven over" and
"It looked fine" and
"I figured it was fine."
(Was she sure she mentioned that it was fine?)
I might have felt bad about eating it, but after hearing all that, I began to feel more sorry for that poor boxed limburger, much like one pities an abandoned family pet. I imagined it having been dropped in a cold, slushy supermarket parking lot, then getting hit by a car, languishing for who knows how long before Mom had the heart to take it in, clean it up and adopt it out. It might have even had to spend the night out there - alone in the dark!
One of my father's many sayings was, "You have to eat a bushel of dirt before you die." I've got at least a few more tablespoonsful to go.