An "Alexander" day

Today was an "Alexander" day.  You know what I'm talking about -- the kind of day depicted in the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. 

I had a killer headache.  It wouldn't go away.  It was so bad I decided I couldn't go to Bible study this evening.

Since I was staying home, I decided I would make a broccoli and cheese omelet with a tiny little bit of leftover broccoli.  Except when I looked in the fridge, I discovered my husband had just tossed that minute amount of broccoli into a stir fry for his dinner.

Because I was in pain from my daylong headache and because I am a b*tch, I complained that he used the last of the broccoli.  In G's defense (and because he doesn't talk to me during the day) he didn't realize I felt like crap, so he thought I was going to Bible study and would get something to eat there.  He made some snarky remark and I snapped back and then he snapped back and, when he finished eating his stir fry, he stormed out of the house to buy more broccoli at the grocery store, even though I told him he shouldn't go because I had no intention of eating any broccoli that he bought.

Yes, I truly am that big of a b*tch.

So for my Plan B dinner, I decided to toast sliced almonds and steam some cauliflower.  I started the almonds and cut up the cauliflower, rinsed it and put it in the really nice steamer pan I bought years ago at Marshall Field's.  I kept an eye on the almonds so they wouldn't burn and hoped I'd timed it so they would be perfectly toasted shortly before the cauliflower was done.

When I checked the cauliflower, I wasn't pleased to discover that it hadn't cooked . . . at all.  So I turned up the heat, hoping to hurry it along.  A few minutes later, a little doubt crept into my mind.  Had I filled the bottom of the steamer pan with water?

I obviously had put the cauliflower into the steamer basket, but I didn't remember filling the pan itself with water.  I went to the stove, lifted up the basket portion and was horrified to see a bone dry and slightly discolored pan.  It was at this point that I also noticed an acrid smell.

Great.  Who knew how hot this pan was.  It was probably too hot to attempt to cool it down with tap water.  I cautiously let a tiny drop of water drip out of the faucet and into the pan.  The droplet briefly sputtered, sizzled and ricocheted in a crazy dance around the bottom of the pan before it evaporated in a puff of steam.

Yep, that pan was d*mn hot.  I had a tea kettle of warm water on the stove and I hoped if I poured that in the pan, it might help to gradually cool the super hot stainless steel.  To play it safe, I set the pan down on a braided rug in front of the sink before I poured in the water.              

Warm water, cold water -- it didn't make much difference.  When the water from the tea kettle hit the bottom of the pan, there was a huge cloud of steam and lots of scary hissing.  I picked up the pan, carefully swirled the water around in a vain attempt to cool off the sides of the pan, then dumped the water into the sink.

As I turned the pan upside down, I was shocked at what I saw.  There was a weird black circular pattern on the bottom of the pan.  It almost looked like the rings of an electric burner . . . except I don't have an electric stove and the burner grates for my gas stove aren't circular.  So where did the black cr*p come from that was all over my pan?

It was then that I noticed the round burn/scorch mark on my braided rug -- a round mark that corresponded exactly to the diameter of the bottom of the pan.  As I looked at the rug more closely, I saw that, in addition to burning and blackening the rug, the heat of the pan had melted some of the outer fibers completely, exposing the white, padded coils beneath the green and gold fabric.

As I contemplated the ruined rug, I searched for a safe place to set the still hot pan, and in so doing, knocked the steamer basket full of cauliflower to the floor.

Great.  Ruined rug, ruined pan, ruined dinner.
    
During this entire debacle G was watching television in the next room.  Not once did he ask if everything was okay or if I needed help.  It's possible he didn't hear anything, but it's more likely that he decided it was better to leave me alone.

When G emptied the kitchen garbage can before he went to bed, I'm pretty sure he couldn't have helped but seen the burn marks on the rug, but he never said a word.   Guess we're sweeping the whole episode under the (burned) rug.

I can only hope that "Alexander" doesn't make an appearance tomorrow.