I had a couple of dumb brunette moments this past week. For those of you who read Brownielocks and the the Three Eyes, you know I started out the week by unintentionally melting a piece of Tupperware on my stove. Who knew plastic could be so...pliable...on a hot eye? I guess better the plastic than my elbow.
Later in the week, I got the bright idea of vacuuming the lint out of my dryer vent. I have a special attachment for my vacuum that is supposed to let you do just that. However, said attachment came off in the vent and disappeared somewhere inside the inner workings of my dryer. An hour and a half later, the dryer was laying on its side. The hall was covered in clumps of lint and dust. The dogs had peed themselves. I was going to pee myself if I couldn't figure out how to climb back up the laundry room wall, over the dryer (turning the dryer over made the vent hose fall off), and to the bathroom that was just a few unreachable feet away. (Note to self: avoid drinking liquids three hours before the next time you plan on getting stuck climbing behind the washer and/or dryer.) Once clean clothes were now dirty--that's what happens when they fall out of the dryer into a hallway full of lint and urine--but the vacuum attachment was finally free.
I think I lost the tape and scissors every 30 seconds while wrapping Christmas presents.
I lost the pen I was using to write names on the presents every 15.
I looked out my new peephole every five to ten minutes after I bought it from a door-to-door salesman midweek. (Okay, that one isn't really dumb, just creepy, although I guess you could say I was dumb for thinking the view was really going to change in that short of a period. Hey, I haven't had a peephole in years. Give me a break.)
However, given the way I started out the week, by nearly starting a fire on my stove, I say the following counts as my dumb brunette moment of the week:
Thursday night I decided to make a fried egg and cheese sandwich for dinner. Since the small front eye still smelled like burnt plastic, I decided to use the back eye again. However, unlike last time, I made sure that there was no Tupperware within a five foot radius of the stove before touching the knob. I also checked and double-checked that it was the correct knob before turning it to medium.
You would think that cooking would be smooth sailing after that. After all, how hard can it be to fry an egg? For me, the answer is apparently very.
While I made sure the stove was clear of all things plastic, I did not make sure it was clear of pot holders. Instead, I left my Christmas one right in the middle of the stove. Then, unbeknownst to me, I slid said pot holder into the hot eye when I leaned in to flip the egg. A minute or so later, I smelled smoke...again. I freaked out...again. I made up some new swear words...again. I just barely avoided having my house burn down...again.
That's right, everyone. I was too dumb to learn my lesson.
I should stick to microwaving.
