Incompetence, thy name is Chaz

[desperance]

So I put the laundry on, and went into town to do some work.

What you need to know at this point is that on top of the washing machine sits a square yard of kitchen counter, on top of that a v heavy chunk of chopping-board, on top and all around that jars and bottles and gadgets and devices and all the detritus of my cooking process. The kitchen counter is not actually attached to anything, it just sits there by force of gravity. When the washer goes into spin mode - well, it's a lot less vibratory than the old one. Sometimes the chopping-board et al slides around, sometimes things fall off; I usually remember to remove jugs of water, etc. I did so this morning.

I went to town, I worked. Hurrah!

I came home. Hungry, wanting m'lunch. I had fresh won ton noodles, and beansprouts, and all the makings. Hurrah!

I found half my kitchen on my kitchen floor. Not just the loose stuff, not just the chopping-board; the whole square yard had been flung off. God knows why: sheer perversity, perhaps?

Anyway, I gazed at the ruin and, y'know? Actually not so ruined. As far as I could see, nothing had actually broken. The stopper hadn't even come out of the oil jar. It all needed picking and/or sweeping up, but nothing worse.

So I stooped to conquer, or in this instance to pick up the square yard of kitchen counter.

My hands are not so good just now. I dropped it.

On, among other things, the oil jar.

Which broke.

So I cut my hand, dealing with that in an immediate sense; and while conveying the chopping-board - which was all covered with oil and broken glass - to the bin, in order to get rid of the glass in reasonable safety, I knocked the drainer off the draining-board and broke a plate. (It is a big chopping-board, and difficult to wield in a narrow kitchen...)

And then I cut my hand again.

Don't look at me like that. It could all have been worse. I guess.

Also, it offers dramatic proof of my former theory, that nothing is ever improved by clearing up...

Comments

[ephiriel.livejournal.com]

You absolute poor pet - I hope your hands are recovering from your kitchen war wounds.
However I can confirm that you are completely correct - nothing is ever improved by clearing up.

[slovobooks.livejournal.com]

Wot She Said...

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweetie...

Would coffee grounds help, do you think?

[moral-vacuum.livejournal.com]

You poor dear! Evidently you require Staff for such things.

[possumqueen.livejournal.com]

Mother Nature is trying to teach you: leave it on the floor wherever it fell! That's what she always does and it eventually works out. *winks*

[esmeraldus-neo.livejournal.com]

Except the one way I can think of in Chaz's kitchen for the scene above to get worse is for him to tread on that. He's a tall man and there's nowhere in there for him to fall.

[possumqueen.livejournal.com]

He's having issues with gravity? How Quixotic. ;)

[maeve-the-red.livejournal.com]

Arse. Poor Chaz.