So, let me tell you about my burn story. But first, a preface.
If you were "lucky" enough to catch my limited edition paranoid freakout entry last week or so, now deleted, you'll know I've been kinda losing my mind lately, and everything in my life seems to be spiraling towards some abyss that I can only defend myself against by being a paranoid freak always waiting for the next shoe to drop. And a lot of shoes have been dropping recently - like some sort of Doom Millipede is looming over me.
Well, I thought about it, but I'm not going to bother you guys with the details of the seemingly endless stream of bullshit I've had lately - I feel like I've done nothing but complain this year. Instead, I'm going to tell you a semi-amusing "it's-funny-when-it-happens-to-someone-else" story that's sure to make you cringe!
Anyone who interacts with me in real life on a regular basis will know that I cannot stand heat. I have done nothing but bitch bitch bitch for the last seven months of suffocating heat wave that we have had on the Shore. My wrath was especially revved up last week when it was approaching eighty degrees just a few days before Halloween. We do not have central air conditioning, and clearly we had already removed our window units because it was almost NOVEMBER.
So, here's the scene. It's last Wednesday, I'm cooking dinner, and since it is 83 degrees in my house, I am not exactly bundled up! I had planned to make a nice dinner for us, and purchased groceries to make salad, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and steaks. It was going to be awesome, but apparently the Doom Millipede wasn't having it.
Let's not forget the laziness factor contributing to my misery. Since I only have three pots, I SHOULD plan my meals carefully enough to make sure I don't need one of them twice. This particular night, I planned to mash a metric fuckton of potatoes, because you can never have enough mashed potatoes. My huge pot was in use by some crappy invented soup we made last week. I didn't feel like washing it out and discarding the junk, so I decided I would use my two small pots for the night, and just "make it work".
The potatoes/onion/garlic mixture barely fit into my pot, and I had to pour some of the water out once during the cooking because it was boiling over onto the stove. Surprisingly, this is not the part where I failed at life.
My asparagus was cut, but not short enough to fit into my smallest pot of boiling water on the back burner. At least, not without some force! After I dropped the stalks into the boiling water, my laziness came back to taunt me in the form of uncovered asparagus heads!
Because of the shock to my system, I barely remember what happened next. I know I stuck one of my cooking utensils in the pot to either stir the asparagus or to push the stalks down into the water.
Whatever I did, the asparagus was not happy. Just then, a boiling splash of water leaped across the stove from the back burner, and scalded me directly on the right can. Yes, ladies, you heard that correctly. And I do mean ALL of it.
I remember making three high-pitched squeals that sounded like a dog getting run over by a bicycle, and raced over to the faucet to douse my second-degree burns in cold water. I heard Sean just about fall out of his chair racing in from the office, where I'm sure the sight he met with was pretty interesting. But I have to give him credit, he was a total prince while taking care of the sniveling, hysterical wreck that I had become.
I was totally distraught, and my mind and body were a wreck, but somehow I managed to finish dinner with a frozen pie tin stuck to my chest.
And it was DAMN delicious!
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