What's Another Word for Charcoal Briquette?
Okay this is going to be totally embarrssing but it was funny after I had a few hours to think about what a wonderful blog entry this would be despite my personal discomfort with posting what a doofus I am.
My day did not go well from the night before and continued all the way until the time my head hit the pillow last night. I won't go into detail except to say that when there is miscommunication there is always trouble!
Last night I decided to make myself some meatloaf. I have been without hubby for the last 10 days while he is away on business. Eating alone is more depressing than I can ever tell you. Anyway, I mashed together some ground meat, onions, green bell peppers, spices, panko bread crumbs, an egg, and s&p then slapped that wet concoction into my little trusty silicon loaf pan and popped that baby into the oven.
I sat down at the computer and read a few of my favorite blogs. I knew I could fanity hear the timer from the microwave (I only used it to time the meatloaf not cook it. eek) upstairs so I should be good to go. Beep, beep, beep, okay, okay, I have to dash downstairs. I get down the stairs and take a quick peek at the meatloaf which I can see is still oozing red liquid. It's not done yet. Got out the thermometer and sure enough it needed more oven time. I wanted a baked potato but I didn't think about that earlier when I stuck meatloaf in the oven. So I grabbed a Yukon Gold from the refrigerator, stabbed it with a fork and threw it in the microwave, hitting the Baked Potato setting. I never gave any thought that when I hit button the potato would be in any danger of being anything except for DONE when the timer went off. Oh whoa unto thee who never thinks...
I walked around the corner to head back upstairs to read all of your blogs when I heard this really wicked whistling sound. I walked back into the kitchen and took a few very cautious steps towards the noise, which was coming from the microwave. I hit Cancel and looked at the potato. Looked good, steaming through the holes, okay. Closed the door hit Baked Potato again, walked away.
Meanwhile the phone rings and it's hubby telling about all the wonderful things he has been doing in San Diego while I have been here alone mopping up puppy puddles at 3 AM. I sat down in the easy chair and chatted away. The timer beeped on the microwave and I leaned over the chair and looked into the kitchen to see a faint gray haze and something really yellow in the microwave, which was still going full tilt. @#$%^&*^%$#$ It's a freaking FIRE. Honey, I gotta go I have a fire in the microwave!! DAMN IT. I shut off the microwave and opened the door. OMG. I stood there stunned like I have never seen food of fire in my life. This is how people get burned in their homes all the time! It's like I was a deer with head lights shining in my eyes. What the @#$% was I going to do. Okay, gathered my witts and grabbed the kitchen tongs and threw it in the sink. I ran cold water over it and watched as heavy smoked came out of every hole I had poked into it. Lord, do I ever feel totally stupid although I have no idea why.
Here is what a potiental briquette looks like before and ...... okay all of you who live in glass houses should never threw potato briquettes! Stop laughing!