Monday, June 14, 2010

Pizza Fail

I know I'm not a consistent person, but last night's pizza disaster was too epic not to tell the world about.

Every Sunday night, after evening service, Cory and I eat a McCain International Thincrust Pizza. It's our favourite. So last night Cory went to take it out of the oven, except that he didn't use the oven mits because I forgot and left them at the church AGAIN, so he grabbed a couple potholders, slipped, burnt his finger and half the toppings ended up smeared all over the oven door. While he ran his hand under cold water I consoled him, scraped some of the toppings off the door and patched the pizza back together as much as I could, trying not to laugh at him TOO much. He sliced the pizza up and we loaded our plates and headed into the living room to eat it. I went to move a book off the coffee table, tipped my plate, and dumped both pieces of pizza onto the carpet. Topping side down.

I'm not kidding.

Do you think I would kid about something like this? It was tragic.

Normally dropping my pizza on the floor would have greatly upset me, but the irony of the situation was such that I couldn't even get mad, all I could do was laugh. So for the second time that night, I found myself scraping toppings and patching pizza. I actually managed to salvage most of it. I think I ate a lot of cat hair, but I was hungry ok!

The whole pizza thing reminded me of when Cory first moved into this apartment before our wedding when I moved in. He burnt his hand back then too - he put an oven mitt on his right hand, opened the oven to retrieve something and reached in and grabbed it... with his left hand. He felt kind of dumb that day. I felt kind of dumb last night. We're even.

I hear a little boy giggling with daddy in my bedroom, must go join in the fun.

Until something else disastrous happens...

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