My wife tried to kill me…
I was not the intended victim…but could have been collateral damage.
Last night, she tried to set fire to our vacation condo. She had read something in Oprah magazine that she had to try…while making dinner, of course. Like most females, she is deathly afraid of germs that lurk everywhere in the home. (I do not let her in on the secret: they are everywhere on this earth. If she knew, she would not get out of bed…except to clean.)
Some clever “household expert” informed Oprah that putting the kitchen sponge wrapped in a paper towel would kill all germs. My wife, who worships at the altar of Oprah, did just that between frying steaks and mixing salad for dinner. With the microwave spinning, we sat to enjoy our meal.
A strong odor disturbed our enjoyment of great rib eye steaks, forcing us to rush to the kitchen. Peaches poaching on the stove got my attention: not knowing about the sponge, I thought something might have fallen onto the hot burner. Just above our lowered heads, focused on the stove, smoke began to seep from the microwave. She finally recalled what she had started, which helped me to understand why something was smoldering inside the machine.
All alleged germs were surely not only dead but also incinerated; the entire condo smelled like the town dump that I recall from my childhood, set on fire to burn trash (before anyone had heard of dioxin).
I was unconcerned about the sponge in its pre-microwave condition…and the place had smelled better. Fortunately, the smoke detector did not notice our dilemma. I would have hated to been forced to blame our embarrassment on Oprah and drag her yet again into the tabloids.
We returned to our steaks and salads, both of which were excellent. My wife is a great cook, but has to learn that a good idea is not always a good idea…even if Oprah says so.