The other day, I burned the bacon. My hubby often tells people that I burn stuff because I want to provide him god-like status. I supply him burnt offerings. I just get sidetracked easily, and I quickly forget that I have put something in the oven or on the stove. I appreciate my hubby, I really do, but he drives me crazy at times. After I burnt the bacon, I went to turn on the ventilation fan in the lavatory to pull out the smoke. The ventilation hood over the stove was not working, so the lavatory air vent was the next best thing. Smoke was wafting off my pan, so I picked it up and ran to put it on the porch. Grease spilled all over the place. Then in my haste to get rid of it, I burned my hand quite badly. I washed the grease from my hand. My hand became a beat red from the accident. My hubby plunged my hand in ice water, while he tried to get rid of the smoke. My hubby tried his hardest to repair the range hood, and get the ventilation finally working. It felt much like I was residing in some kind of comedy film. If I could have put it in slow motion we would have been laughing hysterically. I turned on the fan to the air conditioning, as well as opened the windows to air out the house. Both of us bought a lavatory fan and an up-to-date range hood the following day. Unfortunately, it still hasn’t been installed. I feel it will most likely wait for my next burning session.
- It’s time I move away
- I run the cooling all the time