* Bear with me, they're changing the number around as new information is gathered.
"[Cantaloupe] is susceptible because of its rough, porous skin and soft, succulent interior...knives can carry bacteria from the outside of the melon into the flesh when they slice through."
AND YET YOU MOCK ME WHEN I TELL YOU I WASH ALL MY PRODUCE WITH SOAP.
It's so tragic. I mean, this is exactly the kind of thing that made me a complete basket-case the entire time I was pregnant. I was convinced at all times that the very next food I ate was going to contain listeria and I would have a miscarriage or stillbirth. I was constantly paranoid. (And thus, my diet was awfully limited, and I actually avoided a lot of fresh, "healthy" food--you never know who handled your salad ingredients or if the tomatoes rolled in manure that will kill you, and I am telling you, I was Terrified. Of. Listeria. This is why I stuck to potato chips and bagels, which don't often poison people, and this is why I gained 89334783 pounds.)
It's bad enough thinking you're going to eat at a potluck and come home with a raging case of the trots because someone let the mini-weenies sit out too long in the crockpot. But listeria? From a little old fruit salad? It's so awful.
See, this is what goes through my head when I read something like this: I immediately enter panic mode and think, "Nothing is safe. I can't eat anything, I can't eat anywhere. You never, ever know when this is going to strike. It could be any food, at any moment: spinach. tomatoes. peanut butter. cantaloupe. lettuce. sprouts. ground beef. chicken. anything. anywhere. anytime. I can never ever ever ever ever eat at a restaurant again. I can't ever buy a salad mix at the store ever ever ever ever again. I can't chance eating any prepared food. Nothing is worth the risk." Most rational people probably think, "The risk is low. I will continue eating my restaurant-prepared salad with confidence. The pleasure of eating at a restaurant is worth the risk to me." And my internal dialogue counters your internal dialogue with, "Yes, but the one time--the ONE TIME your loved one eats tainted sprouts and dies--was it worth it then?" That's just how my mind works. It's impossible to control or stop.