Friday, February 01, 2008
Got a nasty burn on my hand yesterday. Spouse decided to go out with his friends from work so I popped a pizza in the oven for dinner. When I was pulling it out, the crust broke, and as it was falling, I tried to catch it with my free hand and the cheese bonded with my flesh. The pizza landed face down on the floor. As I was ow ow owing, I was interjecting "NO SARA!" to keep her away from the steaming mess on the floor. The flow of thoughts was very fast at that point as my hand resembled a cartoon burned hand, bright red, throbbing. "Now when was the last time the maid was here, sara stay away, it was Monday wasn't it, the floor's not that dirty, just our stocking feet have been on it, plus sara always cleans the kitchen floor of any detritus, a spatula, that's what I need, a spatula, Sara No, why aren't there any clean spatulas, shit, oh here's one." Then I scooped up the upside-down pizza onto a plate, scooped up the remaining goo and put it on top and spread it around. Twasn't half bad, actually. I consoled myself with the thought that it's good to challenge the body to germs now and then to keep that immune system primed and at the ready. But honestly, this morning, I'm a bit aghast that I ate something off the kitchen floor. I wonder how many sara hairs were in that mess. Ugh.