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| Photo Credit: Lowes |
When the timer told me the cookies were done, I used both a
kitchen towel and an oven mitt (I assume my fear of getting burned from the hot
rack led me to double up on the protection) and the kitchen towel somehow
touched the oven coils at the bottom of the oven and caught fire.
There was a lot of screaming (mostly me, although I’m
betting mom did her share once she ran into the kitchen) but I somehow managed
to get the towel in the sink and douse it with water before the house burned
down.
Thankfully, the cookies were unharmed.
Nothing soothes frazzled nerves better than some delicious
chocolate chip cookies.
Fast-forward through teen years, my twenties, thirties,
forties . . . you get the idea. I have had
several kitchen mishaps (okay, small fires or smoke-alarm incidents) through
the years.
These incidents were so expected within my family that I my
own mother bought me a fire-extinguisher for a birthday present one year.
Happy birthday to me.
I have not actually had to use the fire-extinguisher because
these all-too-often incidents don’t get too out of hand but there was one time the fire department was called. That one really wasn’t my fault though (I was
using an apparently just-cleaned oven at an apartment I recently moved into and
the apartment filled with a horrible smell.)
So kitchen “mishaps” happen but the biggest casualties are
usually an appliance (or two). A toaster
caught on fire and was ruined because of an exploding Pop-Tart (it happens –
look it up!). As a poor college student,
I wrote to Kellogg’s and insisted they buy me a new toaster. (I didn’t get a new toaster but I got coupons
for free Pop-Tarts which helped my almost non-existent grocery budget.)
The most recent kitchen “incident” was probably the worst so
far and we lost a microwave because of it.
I was making dinner and using the microwave as a timer. Or so I thought. I accidentally started the microwave “cooking”
instead of timing for twenty minutes.
Not a horrible mistake unless there’s a plastic container of
frosted sugar cookies stored in the microwave.
Yikes.
The house filled with smoke and the smell of burnt plastic
was horrendous. Plastic melted into the bottom
of the microwave and, even though we were able to clean out the inside, the
smell never went away.
This time the cookies (nor the microwave) could be saved and
I had no company to write to asking for replacements – this was all on me.
My husband and I shopped for a microwave on our next date
night (I’m obviously as practical as my mom was) and came home with a gorgeous
stainless steel microwave.
This was the best result of a kitchen fire ever!
While deciding on the microwave, my husband made the comment
that we should pay for the install (of course, I had fried the above-the-stove
microwave and not a cheap countertop microwave). Richard was envisioning the lifting and
drilling and more lifting. I was
envisioning saving a few dollars. When
the salesperson came over to assist, he assured Richard the install was
easy.
My husband has serious chronic back pain issues. He is also inclined to do more than he should
so when he says we should pay someone to install an appliance, I really should
listen to him. He does not say these
things lightly.
However, I wasn’t really thinking and we both were easily
swayed by the salesperson’s insistence that the install would be easy.
Helping my husband lift the very heavy old microwave out of
the cabinet and install a new, only slightly less heavy microwave, was enough
to make me bang my hand against my head asking, “What was I thinking?!”
Richard was able to install the shiny new microwave but paid
for it with increased back pain for the remainder of the day – and the next.
I have learned a few things from this experience:
- Don't use the microwave as a timer (the risk is too great);
- Listen to my husband (at least when it comes to his back pain);
- Always, always save the cookies . . .
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