On Sunday we had a roast dinner. A big fat chicken with the first sprouts of the season. Did I ever tell you how much I LOVE sprouts?
It felt like I had used nearly every utensil and receptacle in the kitchen as I filled the dishwasher, I stuck things in, took them out and rearranged them again to get everything in. At last the work surface was clear and the dishwasher crammed.
I put a tablet in, pressed the button and … and … and … the bloody door wouldn’t shut.
I pulled both shelves out and pushed things around a bit. Nothing obvious in the way.
I pulled the drawers out and checked the runners, everything was fine. By now I was getting frustrated, I may have been swearing under my breath and I shouted for The Husband, fixer of all things technical.
By the time he arrived I had steam coming out of my ears and may have called the dishwasher something that rhymes with PUCKING CAT. He told me to calm down which only made the steam blow harder.
The 4 year old followed him in. Watching Mummy having a meltdown must be an event not to be missed because the 6 year old arrived shortly after.
Swearing (under my breath again with the presence of small ears) and spitting feathers, I was holding up the drawer which I had once more pulled out which was full and rather heavy. My hands were smeared with gravy, there may have been some mashed potato in my hair too, I was harassed and slightly sweaty. I demonstrated, once more, the PUCKING CAT of a dishwasher to my avid audience.
I felt a bit like this …
I wouldn’t allow The Husband near the dishwasher. Just as he was about to elbow me out of the way the 4 year old, who had been watching the scene with great interest, pointed at the potato ricer, and said “It’s that”. I looked at him, at the 6 year old and at The Husband who said, slightly too smugly “You’ll be REALLY pissed off if he’s right”.
One potato ricer adjusted and the god damn door shut, just like that. Like a PUCKING dream.
… and yes I was pissed off, really pissed off. Bloody know it all 4 year old.
8 Comments on "My hands were smeared with gravy, there may have been some mashed potato in my hair …"
Love it! And you’ll enjoy him being right all the more when he’s old enough to make smart-arsed teenage comments as well. BTW, have you seen there’s a Christmas wreath made out of dried sprouts in Notonthehighstreet.com. I think you may be the only person in the world who’ll want it xx
Hehe, sorry to laugh but I can very much identify with your story, it’s the kind of pickle I get myself into. And yes, I even more closely identify with Basil kicking lumps out of an inanimate object – something i’ve been known to do more than once!
And BTW, I love sprouts too – especially with chestnuts.. bring ‘em on!
Pucking awesome! Are there any pics of you looking like a Sunday dinner remanent? If not, The Husband has failed us all…
I wasn’t even there n I could have told you it was the Pucking potato ricer. I remember the awkward bastard when packing your kitchen not forgetting its mates the ramekins (ramekin should be said in scary deep darth vader type of voice)
Pucking brilliant.
Pucking annoying.
Why is watching Mummy melting down such fantastic entertainment for everyone else. And how unbelievably IRRITATING that 4 year old spotted the mistake. When it gets that bad the puking dishwasher needs to be broken beyond all ability to fix it… I feel your pain!
I’m still irritated by it now!