Saturday, August 15, 2009

Temper, Temper, Temper

I know this will be a total shock to you...But one time Studmuffin & I had a fight. I have no clue what it was about, I only remember what I was doing and what he was doing....

I was griping up a storm at him. (Aunt Flo was probably on her way again. I blame most irrational behavior on the old bag.) At the same time, I was cleaning the kitchen. He was sitting at the bar, fighting back with me. I had a giant bowl of spaghetti. I started putting it down the disposal. Without the disposal running. I was using my hand to shove it in.

Gripe.

Dump.

Cram it in.

Gripe.

Dump.

Cram it in.

When I finally forced the ginormous pot of spaghetti completely into the disposal where it was to the point of overflowing, AFTER I had crammed as much as I could in, I turned on the water, and hit the switch......

Spaghetti flew out the opposite drain and a horrible exploding sound came from under the sink.

All verbal communication ceased.

I opened the cabinet to see spaghetti all over everything. Studmuffin came over, and started griping under his breath, but not so under his breath that I couldn't understand every word he was saying. I went to the bathroom to get some towels for clean up.

When I walked out of the kitchen Studmuffin thought I was abandoning the job to him. When I returned to the kitchen I found him throwing everything from under the sink over his shoulder where it was landing hither, there and yon all over the kitchen. With icky sticky spaghetti all over it.

I figured he was pretty ticked, so I actually kept my mouth shut, and just started wiping everything off, and sweeping and mopping, and wiping spaghetti off of the refrigerator, the cabinet fronts, everywhere. When Studmuffin stuck his head out from the sink, and saw what he was doing, he felt a little bad.

But not bad enough to not lecture me for the entire time it took him to repair the disposal. I had clogged up the opposite sink. I had blown some sort of valve or seal off of the disposal, and even managed to blow off the trap, so spaghetti was way down in the pipes. It was not a good situation.

And it was not a good night in our household. In fact I was forbidden to ever put spaghetti down the disposal again. Ever. Never again. If he told me once, he told me 20 times. Don't ever put spaghetti down the disposal again. Got it.

3 comments:

Becky said...

I don't even like spaghetti.

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