Fire Hazard

So this was originally going to be my first blog.

If you are wondering about the name of my blog- "Mishaps of a Housewife"- then you need an explanation. Actually, you need to know a little about my background.

I... am clumsy.

No seriously. People say they're clumsy, but I'm extraordinarily clumsy. Klutzy, if you will. Just plain uncoordinated.

Believe me, my family doesn't call me "Grace" for nothing.

I have the remarkable talent of tripping, busting, breaking, falling, slipping, sliding, bumping, slamming, running headlong into, out of, off of, onto even the safest of surroundings. Put me in a padded room, and I'll do something clumsy. I am just that accident prone.

Still don't believe me? Well, every so often, I'll be blogging about my "mishaps."

Since I've gotten married, it seems that I attract even more trouble. Especially fire trouble, for some reason.

For instance... several months ago, I was using our toaster oven to toast (to perfection) olive oil croutons. I was making them out of homemade bread to have on a gorgeous salad with rich, cheesy, gooey homemade lasagna. I was excited. I was hungry.

I was forgetful.

I forgot all about the croutons in the toaster oven until I smelled something burning. As I turned toward the toaster oven, I noticed an ominous flickering light from the back of it. Dangit.

Let me backtrack... This was a Sunday afternoon. I was making lunch for four hungry men who were playing video games at the time of the "incident." Also, I had already ruined one batch of croutons. Go figure.

Don't forget that I mentioned that these were OLIVE OIL croutons, which equals GREASE FIRE, only I didn't equate that in my mind. I did have the presence of mind, however, to begin looking for the fire extinguisher, only about 10 seconds after I stared at the little blaze on my kitchen counter. I also was able to drag myself from the morbid fascination long enough to say, "Um, guys? There's a fire." So, as I (not so calmly) searched cabinets and closets for the fire extinguisher, one of my guests was brave enough (or stupid enough) to grab a pot holder, fling open the toaster oven door, and grab the pan of flaming charcoal that was once my croutons. When he turned to the sink with the pan, though, everything seemed to go in slow motion, just like in the movies. I started running back towards the kitchen (that's right, TOWARDS the fire, not away from them as perhaps a more intelligent, self-preserving individual would- all the while in slow motion) and was in the process of saying "NOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" when....

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

There's a lesson to be learned here:

Don't put a grease fire out with water. And soot doesn't come off of white cabinets.

And eyebrows never grow back in quite the same way.

Just kidding about that last one.