The Scene: A quiet Saturday morning. I’m the only one home. I’m still in my workout togs. Crossword puzzles and reading and snoozing await me.
But I’m hungry. So I decide to whip up a couple of eggs and some toast to go with my mid-morning coffee.
I get out the eggs and the bread and the butter. Butter the bread and get the toaster going. Melt some butter in a small skillet, crack-crack a couple of eggs into the pan, then cover it.
What’s that smell? Ah, a small fire in the toaster. Let’s just turn that off and wave away the smoke with a potholder and turn the over-the-range vent to “full blast” to suck out the stink. Okay. Emergency averted.
Oddly enough, the toast seems okay.
And how are those eggs doing? A little leathery, but the yolks still look like they could hatch any second, so it’s time to flip them with a handy spatula and burn my finger on the edge of the pan. Okay. Run some cold water over that.
I dump eggs onto a plate with the chewy toast and take it all to the dining table and sit down and realize that my coffee mug is sitting over by the toaster. I retrieve it, and sit again, and reach for the combination salt shaker/pepper grinder device, and it has never been more empty of peppercorns in its whole life, so I get up again and go to the spice rack and get more peppercorns. I can’t get the combination salt/pepper grinder device open to refill it. I yank and tug and pry and curse and force, and finally the stuck becomes unstuck and salt goes everywhere.
While my eggs gently chill, I refill the shaker and put it all back together and clean up the spilled salt. I don’t throw the salt over my shoulder, and I’m immediately rewarded with the bad luck to whack my head on the roaring range vent, which is having limited success with the whole stink issue.
Because I’m all alone in the house, I say many, many bad words during the four-and-one-half minutes needed to prepare my brunch.
The eggs were okay.
Next up on Life Is an Adventure: I take a shower.
