Last night I tried to burn my house down. I mean I unintentionally tried to burn my house down because I imagine if I really tried I might have succeeded. Luckily I did not.
Let’s start by saying I am busy. No really, I am. I work 40+ hours, take care of the home stuff, groceries, cooking laundry, teenager, dog, husband etc. So I’m probably not any more busy than the average but I don’t rely on take out or convenience foods and I don’t have a house-cleaner, so there it is. Anyway, I tend to try to a lot done all at once. So I come home last night and I make dinner, which was fabulous by the way, and clean up after. I set the dishwasher on delay so it doesn’t make a lot of noise and I realize that I don’t have any lunch meat. So I think to myself, I will cook up a bunch of eggs while I’m on-line Xmas shopping and they can cool over night and in the morning I will make egg salad. I’m clever like that. So I put the eggs on the stove and turn it to medium because I just want to simmer the eggs and go to the office and get on the computer. This is about 7:45. Well the next thing I know it is now 9:00 and I get up very early so I head up to bed to watch some TV and go to sleep. I stop in the kitchen and think, “what’s that noise?” but by now the dishwasher is running and I figure that’s it so I go on up to bed. About 10:45 (3 hours later) I wake up and think, “What is that smell?” I get up, grab my robe and go down stairs with P right behind me. Well there is a haze through the kitchen and smoke emanating from the bottom of the pan which is burnt black. The eggs have gone from hard boiled to exploded and there are pieces of egg all over the stove and on the floor. P. (bless his heart) is trying very hard to stay calm and doing a good job I might add and we open windows and turn on fans and generally try to clear the house of the smoke and the stench of burnt eggs for a good hour. Duncan is unfazed by any of this and after about half an hour goes back upstairs, under the bed and back to sleep. M doesn’t wake up at all. We close up the house again and then we go back to bed.
The next morning we get up and P says to me “We have to talk about this because I’m worried about you.” I explain that it was just an accident, a brain fart. Now to back track just a little, with the unseasonably warm weather that we’ve been having, we have had fruit flies, constantly. This morning however they’re number was noticeably reduced. So I look at P and tell him that what he witnessed last night was a homemade bug bomb and smile. He starts laughing, gives me a hug and all is good.
