Saturday, February 28, 2009

Psalm 66

So I'm baking stromboli when the smoke alarm goes off. 

I went into the kitchen to find clouds of smoke where some cheese had dripped onto the floor of the oven. Off went the oven (the stromboli was done anyhow), up went the windows, open went the doors, front and back. I turned on every fan in the house and set up my big box fan blowing to the back door.

The smoke alarm shut up.

I yanked the stromboli out of the oven and stuck them on a plate. Then I started to wash the cookie sheet they'd been on.

My feet were. . . . . .warm. And wet. Warm. And wet. Wet. 

Wet feet. 

This is not good.

Oh, dear.

The waste pipes under the kitchen sink had somehow come apart.

So. I squatted down and repaired them as best I could with no tools and no extra pipe, then returned to washing up.

You have led us through fire and flood, O Lord, and brought us to a place of abundance.

I'm going to go now and make sure that place of abundance contains plenty of beer.

1 comment:

head chef said...

Oh dear. Easy enough to fix.