Morning fog

I don’t think I’ve addressed my um, shall we say, accident-proneness (is that a word?) in the kitchen. Today was a perfect example. Well, let me back up a little. I am not really a morning person UNTIL I’ve had my very large cup of french roast brewed at home in my lovely coffeemaker, mixed with my lovely coffeemate (preferably vanilla caramel or cinnamon something) which I know is bad for me (insulin resistance & all but it’s my one indulgence) but I really don’t care because it’s the only thing that turns me from a grizzly bear into a human. If you were at my house in the morning, you’d want me to have my coffee too.

OK–coffee I can do, no problem. Flip the switch, so easy a monkey can do it. Drinking it, fog clearing. Kids want sourdough toast. Fine, I can do that; get large knife (uh-oh). Drop knife on kitchen floor, where it bounces & stabs my big toe. No, unfortunately I am not fucking kidding. Eh, not a big cut tho, I’ll live. (Looking at it now–the red matches my nail polish–kinda cool actually.) Hop over to toaster, put in freshly cut toast–cut with a clean knife, thank you very much. Forget to turn toaster off the highest setting which Lukas, my almost 4-yr old, had so kindly & surreptitiously done for me…ergo, black burnt toast and that lovely burning scent that fills my kitchen–you can’t buy that in an air freshener can. So in actuality, not really my fault–though if it had been lunch or dinner, I probably wouldn’t have been in such a fog and would have noticed that the toaster was set on #5 and not #2. Thanks, kid.

Then we finish with the orange in the eye…wait don’t you know what that is? Surely you’ve known since you were a kid that when peeling a fresh orange/lemon/lime, you don’t rub your eye with your fingers while peeling said fruit, right? I certainly know that…well, apparently that knowledge flew out of my head this morning while peeling clementines for Lukas and I. Eye itchy, finger rubbing, reaction? Let’s put it this way–I used Grandma Adele’s favorite saying which you may or may not recall from previous postings…does “Damn it to hell shit piss” ring a bell? No? Well, there you have it.

Maybe another day I’ll cover the baking cookies arm burn. Right now I have to go put a bandaid on my booboo.