Okay. Random.
"What?"
"The spaghetti the family sent over the other night. You tossed it right?"
"No," I laughed, I put it in the freezer and I told you." (to be "fair" he's going deaf and we both have the attention span of small children)
"Well, the family thinks we ate it."
Ummm, okay?
"He asked about it earlier and the lie (pantomine a chef's kiss) was out of my mouth before I even knew what happened."
I would like to say that this is ridiculous and never happens but I cannot. His brother is Sensitive Pants. He would take it as a personal affront that we didn't eat the stupid spaghetti sauce. And I had to freeze it because it had already been about three days when they sent it over so we were looking at food poisoning if I didn't. To be fair again, it's always a risk here really.
"Well, you didn't technically lie. We just haven't eaten it yet."
"I just wanted to let you know so if it came up, you would know to say that we ate it and we liked it."
Ummm, way to have my back?
Then I started laughing. One of Kevin's favorite shows is Rules of Engagement with Patrick Wharburton. The character has an episode where he explains the art of lying.
"Small, random details!" I exclaim
"Yeah, it was good but it was So Much"
"And yeah, I spilled it on the floor but it just missed the carpet."
"And Lucy got into it and she was sick because puppies aren't supposed to eat spaghetti sauce."
Now I'm nearly crying laughing. (it's been a week)
"JACKSON FARNSWORTH!!!" If you don't know the show, this is lost on you. It's a pretend character he uses to get out of things. "Jackson Farnsworth needs me in the office" "We're going to dinner with Jackson Farnsworth" etc. (I can't find a clip...google it, maybe you will)
"He came to dinner and he loved it!"
Fast forward almost exactly 24 hours.
I'm trying to defrost our fraudulent spaghetti sauce and it's not going well. Sometimes Karma is instant.
First, my sister-in-law put it in a dollar store container that is cylinder shaped. I can't get the frozen sauce out. I looked at container everywhere to see if it was microwave safe. (it certainly Didn't Say it was BPD free or whatever so we're probably dead) I had to risk it.
Three sets of two minutes in the microwave and it barely is able to slide out of the container.
After some awkward juggling, I transferred it to a real bowl. A few more sets of two minute cooking and it's marginally defrosted. I did another set. I considered going out to the shop: "Chain saw? Saws-All?"
I tried to stir it and I realize that it's full of MEATBALLS. "AHA! OF COURSE!" I shout to no one.
This is where Kevin walks in, home from work, because of course. "Who are you talking to?" he asks while looking around our tiny house for a guest. Or the dog.
"Well, our karma for lying about the spaghetti sauce is that it won't effing defrost and we're never going to be able to eat it."
"Serves us right." is all he says then went outside. Super helpful.
I've written this entire post and the spaghetti sauce is now in bowl #3 and is "mostly" defrosted. The noodles I cooked because "this possibly can't take that long" are now probably total crap.
Karmic Spaghetti, man. I'm telling you.
And please don't offer possible solutions. This was our punishment. And talking about cooking is like doing math or using worlds like "West".
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| Pink = sketchy dollar store container, white = original bowl, frosted = desperate attempt |
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