Let me start this off by saying that every year when we change the clocks I pass by the fire station sign that reminds me to change my smoke alarm batteries and feel very guilty that, once again, the one in my kitchen is no longer functioning. I make the effort to rectify the problem and buy the ‘less sensitive’ kind, hang it back up and all goes well.
For a few weeks.
It is inevitable that I will ‘cook’ something and forget it is on the stove. You know what happens, you put up the broccoli to steam, go down to check an email or two and before you know it the damn pot is black and there is a ‘light’ fog of smoke in the kitchen. Then off goes the damn smoke alarm.
This morning it was chocolate chip pancakes. Yes, I am a the model mom and I do make my son chocolate chip pancakes every morning. The day started fine. I got up early, remembered that I needed rolls, went to the bank and bagel store, even got a nice hot cop of joe. It was all under control.
Somehow I lost the rhythm of the morning and the next thing I knew I was burning the pancakes and off went that friggin’ smoke alarm. Less sensitive my ass! Now all of this would not be such big deal if my poor sweet dog did not have a severe neurological reaction to the sound of the smoke alarm. (You remember, the dog that the UPS man found in the street and put in the yard) I mean this poor pooch starts to shake uncontrollably at the sound of this thing. Perhaps she could use some meds.
Here I am with a broom trying to shut the smoke alarm, the dog is shaking, Danny mentions it might not be a bad idea to shut the stove since the griddle is now smoking, Gary suggests opening a window, maybe a door and then he said it. The dreaded statement that has come up too often lately. The one that proves I have lost my ability to do it all:
“You know, you used to have it all together. Now it is like the Rock of Gibraltar is cracking again”
I HATE that line. Mostly because he is right.
The dog? Don’t worry, by 11:00 she was fine.
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