As I washed dishes tonight, I mentally dictated a post. Said post was to describe the joy of successfully cooking and draining spaghetti noodles for dinner. Lest you say, "Huh?", I'll explain: I seem to have had some trouble with this for a few months now. More than once I have been forced to rescue and rinse noodles from the garbage disposal (shh....the boys never suspected) before serving my hungry males.
So it was with great pride that I took a picture of the fresh noodles, neatly confined in my wedding-present-colander with nary an escapee and thought of my accomplishment. Then suddenly I was awakened to reality by an unusual sound.
Turns out in my daydreaming, I failed to catch a measuring cup that slipped in the garbage disposal. My favorite 1/4 c. is now a disfigured hunk of metal, twisted into an unnatural position, reminiscent of a chalk outline from Law & Order.
What can I say? I'm my mother's daughter.
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