Do You Talk to Yourself When You Do Something Stupid?

Do you talk to yourself when you do something stupid?  

"Why did you do that?"  

Then you continue by answering yourself:  "I don't know.  I can't believe I did that."

I have had a few of these conversations this month and they went something like this:

My spaghetti sauce had been cooking all day and I was ready to boil the pasta.  Removing the lid of the pasta pan, I almost fell over from the stench.  The bottom of the pan was covered in mold.  Under the layers of mold it appeared I failed to wash the pan the last time I made pasta.  

"How did that happen?  How is that even possible?  Someone else must have done that."

I'd post the picture but it isn't pretty -- just take my word for it.  Here's a picture of the pasta instead.

No one else cooks in my kitchen except me and I couldn't blame the dogs.  Removing that mass was beyond disgusting; I considered tossing the pan but it was too expensive.  Before finishing the clean-up, hubby arrived home and he did the heavy scrubbing.  Then I disinfected, boiled, and scrubbed some more.  

Hubby:  "Why did you do that?"  I have no answer and I still don't believe it was me.....

Is the washer falling apart?

Hearing a loud banging in the washing machine, I investigated.  Couldn't see anything unusual there so turned it back on.  The noise stopped until the spin cycle.  I wondered if the machine was breaking down.  But I was soon enlightened when I emptied the washer.  There it was -- the TV remote.  

"How did that get in there?"

"Who would toss the remote in the washing machine?"

"You are the only one in this household who does laundry."

"I would never do anything that stupid."

"Case closed."

Immediately I contacted our service provider to order a new remote which would arrive within ten business days and $45 later.  Does this mean that hubby would have to get off the sofa every time he wanted to change channels?  

I knew it was a long shot but decided to try the hairdryer before confirming the order.

"You're kidding."  

"How can this possibly still work?"  But it did.  And hubby was never the wiser.  This was a good thing as the whole pasta scene was the day before.

This can't be happening

They sure don't make things like they used to which is why I prefer my old pans over new ones.   I didn't realize that some times old things wear out.  I thought they were supposed to last forever.  Like marriage.

The roasting instructions on the turkey breast bag said to roast at 350 degrees for 90 minutes.  I prepared all the side dishes and set dinner time for six o'clock.  Having a turkey dinner in the middle of the week would be a nice surprise for hubby.  An hour later I checked on the bird and realized there was a flood on the bottom of my oven.  Nothing was 'boiling' over.  

"What is going on?"  

"Where is that juice coming from?"

The juices continued to drip when I discerned there was a hole in the bottom of my roaster.

"It's only 45 years old."

Cleaning up the mess and changing pans revealed a minuscule hole in the bottom of my trusted pan.  I also realized there was not a chance this bird would be ready to carve in 30 minutes.  There was a lot of conversation with myself for the next two hours before that turkey was ready.  

I'm not a hoarder but I hate throwing useful things away -- I kept the lid.  Eventually, that will have to go too but maybe I can find a use for it in the meantime.  

The hole is so tiny -- can you see it?  I guess the moral of that story is that a little hole can make a big difference -- whatever that means.

My pups understand me

Aside from talking to myself, my dogs are great listeners.  They spend every day with me -- in my office.  Our male doxie is only 15 years old but it looks like his days are numbered.  Having rescued many dogs from abusive situations they don't come to us as pups.  They come with issues.  We love each one as a dear member of our family.  Gunner and Star came to us four years ago.  They had been severely abused.  

It took Gunner about six months before he trusted us to rub his belly with our feet -- and now he begs for it.  In their previous home, he protected Star for six years and took a great deal of the abuse on her behalf.  We knew he might have problems internally but we fell in love with them the second we saw them.  

Every day we look for signs to determine if he is telling us "It's time Mom....I'm done."  

He does not appear to be in pain.  We are not going to say good-bye until he is ready.  We are very concerned about how Star will react when her 'hubby' is gone.

Our friends love him and he will be missed......but then he could live another year or two.  He is stubborn enough!

Autumn is my favorite time of year and my grands are enjoying these cooler days:

This has been a Fly on the Wall post.  Be a fly on the wall for my fellow bloggers -- you will enjoy their posts as well:

Baking In A Tornado                

Spatulas on Parade                     

Sarah Nolan