After cutting my finger open with the cheese grater, setting off the fire alarm and running around in a frenzy trying to find something long enough to reach the ceiling to turn it off, melting the only scraper we have, getting olive oil on my jeans — let alone the reappearance of the kitchen poltergeist — I finally got my dinner of chicken parmesan. The sheer amount of times I exclaimed, ‘Heavens!’ this evening would be enough to catch any angel’s attention.
I was going to call my parents tonight, but once they read this post, I think they’ll understand why I might call them later this week instead.
I want a new cheese grater for NaNoWriMo Eve. And a mallet.