Yesterday was not a great day. It wasn’t horrible compared with cancer, famine, etc., but compared to the other days this week, it wasn’t great.

I had it planned to drive down to Vermillion to observe an evaluation for central auditory processing disorder. It’s something I encountered a little bit as a teacher, and I was really excited to learn more about it. But I got there, and it was cancelled. So I drove 2 hours on a day I didn’t have class for nothing.

When I came home, I started working on the dinner I was preparing for friends who were coming over that night. It was baked potato soup, and I thought that by peeling the potatoes before baking them, I would save myself some time. Now I’ll stop here to say that I’m good at improving in some settings…public speaking, on tests, etc. Home and garden? Not so much. The peeled potatoes turned into rocks, and I had to go get more.

I also baked a cake. Lately I’ve been praised prodigiously for my cakes. And since the metal 9X13 was dirty, I used the glass pan. Oops. It took way too long to get the middle cooked, and the sides were chewy, and generally not so good.

But, the best was yet to come…as the soup was coming to a simmer, I went to use the bathroom. And there was a horrible stench coming from the bathroom…kind of like someone getting a perm, but grosser. And there was food coming out of the shower drain, covering the shower floor. And guests were coming in like 15 minutes…and this was my only shower…

Let’s just say having friends over was the saving grace. We had a lovely dinner, a field trip to the hardware store for stuff to pour down the drain, and some just okay cake. And today I called my new friend, Mr. Roto Rooter, and then went out and bought a trap to catch hair before it goes down the drain, and I vowed not to put any more potato peelings down the garbage disposal.


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One response to “Hmm…

  1. Yeah, when we bought our first place the only real advice the home inspector gave us was to never under any circumstances put any type of garbage in the garbage disposal. So, apart from the infrequent plastic baby spoon that slides down the chute, our disposal has had a hungry yet satisfyingly unimposing life.

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