Out Of The Frying Pan
I am a disaster when I’m out of my habitat. It’s only nine thirty in the morning and I’m knee deep in catastrophe. I’m out in the middle of nowhere. They have a coffee maker here but I don’t employ the sorcery required to operate the damn thing. I was smart and brought some instant coffee in my magical bag of cords and wires.
Let’s talk about the gas stove. No one explained to me how to turn it on. In true scholarly style I turned it on to high and started searching for a mug. It wasn’t much of a search and I did manage to find it in seconds. But u\in that same amount of seconds the kitchen area filled with a very very gassy smell. I’m not talking about me either. This was explosion gas smell. I observed the stove and realized I was supposed to turn the dial just a little mo-
I’m lucky my glasses aren’t melted to my head. But I do have coffee and i’m very happy. As soon as I hop-vac all this water from the flood in the basement, I’ll be able to start my day.