The Spaghetti Debacle of 2007

I know this story is going to be disturbing for many of you.

You see, you will be astonished to learn that Studmuffin and I have the occasional argument. Not the typical, he loves to see me annoyed (for some weird reason he thinks that's cute) so he does everything in his power to irritate me. Granted, those disagreements often end in me wanting to throw something at him, or shove his nose up into his brain just to get him to stop pestering me...Oops, did I just type that out loud? But they aren't real arguments. Those are more an example of our open, honest communication between two loving people....

These are real, genuine, authentic, all out arguments. Complete with heated words and regrettable comments that you wish you could pull back and erase the whole incident.

I'm about to share one such incident with you. Of course, I have no idea what the fight was about. I only remember the events that occurred during and after the fight.

The vision is so clear. I was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner. We had eaten spaghetti (hence the title), and I do remember that Studmuffin had gotten home late. However, this was a common occurrence in those days. He was at the bar (in the kitchen, not the saloon, silly!) NO doubt forced to sit there to spend quality time with me while I cleaned up the kitchen from the meal he was too tired to eat, when all he really wanted to do was collapse on the couch and veg out in front of the TV...

Gentle Reader, I'm not defending my position or his in this story. I'm just stating facts here, from a completely UNBIASED point of view. Okay, since I'm the rambler in this story, the story may not be completely unbiased...

Anyhoo, he's sitting at the bar. I am cleaning the kitchen. I had unintentionally made entirely too much spaghetti. I could not save it because it had sat out too long while I was waiting on him, and it was pretty much ruined. Hmm, I wonder if that's why he was too tired to eat it? I began to put the spaghetti down the disposal.

Correction: I began to CRAM the spaghetti down the disposal...

Without it running...

I continued to nag and gripe and be a general shrew....

I dumped in the pan of sauce...

I took my hand and began to manually SHOVE that spaghetti into the disposal (told you I made too much!)...

I rolled my eyes...

I made rude comments...

I snorted at his utter male stupidity...

In a moment of glorious rage, I slapped the faucet on and flipped on the disposal...

A horrendous noise came from underneath the sink.

Spaghetti flew up out of the disposal and into the air.

Spaghetti came out the opposite drain and hit the window...

The arguing stopped...An ominous silence fell over the kitchen.

With fear and trembling I opened the cabinet door and peaked inside...

The entire garbage disposal had flown apart, and spaghetti was EVERYWHERE...

In order to calm myself, and to avoid the wrath that I figured was about to come down on me, I escaped to the bathroom, ostensibly to get some towels to clean up the mess (I seem to remember we were out of paper towels.)

I had not bothered to tell my beloved, if rather angry at this moment in time, hubby where I was going, and what my thought process was...

I later learned he had thought I created the huge mess and fled the scene of the crime for good.

I took a moment to compose myself and come up with some excuse for my actions while simultaneously lecturing myself to not say the things I was thinking at that precise moment.

I returned to the kitchen armed with a stack of towels.

I was astounded to discover Studmuffin with his head under the cabinet, throwing everything underneath out...Literally.

He was throwing anything his hands came across behind him, to land wherever, complete with spaghetti noodles and marinara sauce...

Spaghetti was all over the kitchen.

On the refrigerator. On the walls. In the pantry (of course the door was open). The floor. The cabinets...You get the picture. It was a giant spaghetti explosion.

I didn't say a word. Shocking, I know.

I took the towels and began to clean up the spaghetti....

He reassembled the plumbing to the sink.

I had literally blown the garbage disposal off the pipes, and burst apart the place where the two sinks drains join to one pipe thingy...

A few hours of cleaning and repairing passed...

He calmed down.

I calmed down.

I finally said, "You know, this may have been a teeny bit easier to clean up if we didn't have spaghetti to clean up off the walls now..."

He said, "You know, we wouldn't be doing this at all if you hadn't been shoving spaghetti down the sink like a crazy woman. Don't EVER put spaghetti down the disposal again."

And we finally looked at each other.

And we started laughing.

Hysterically.

And we kissed and made up...

But to this day if I make spaghetti he tells me, "Do NOT put that down the disposal..."

Every. Single. Time.