Ever have one of those mornings when you know right away that it’s not going to be a good day? Mine started as soon as I got out of bed this morning. The phone rang before I’d even had breakfast. That’s always a bad sign. If my phone starts ringing that early, it does something weird to the ringer and it keeps ringing all day!
So, after too many phone calls and my cat depositing a giant hairball on the living room carpet, I was not in a very good mood by dinner time.
However I tried to do as a popular TV evangelist often says: “No matter what happens, be happy on purpose,” she touts, with a smile on her face. So I forced a big smile and started rattling those pots and pans. Well, I must not be living right ‘cause this “happy on purpose” thing didn’t work for me. Everything I did went awry. I’m not sure I belong in the kitchen!
When I peeled potatoes, most of them had to be thrown away because they had black spots in them, but I was finally able to salvage enough good ones to make a “batch.” I put them on to cook and started cooking my pork chops. Wouldn’t you know it? They stuck to the pan like they were super-glued and when I tried to pry them loose, grease popped everywhere, making a big, greasy mess and burning my finger. I felt like throwing the chops away – pan and all! But remembering the words, “No matter what happens, be happy on purpose,” I plastered the smile back on my face and took on the next task – opening a new jar of cornstarch. What a disaster that turned out to be!
Removing the lid, I found a foil cover over the top of the jar. It had little tabs on it and I thought I could just pull on one of those and, Voila! Off would come the foil. Wrong! I pulled and pulled to no avail, and finally used a paring knife to pry one side of the foil up. When it finally let go, the whole thing sort of burst off at once and it was as if a sudden snowstorm had hit my kitchen! This fine, white powder, about the consistency of baby powder, settled all over the counter tops, canisters, coffee pot, assorted knick knacks – and me.
Mr. H. walked into the kitchen just in time to see me throw my arms in the air and yell, “Calgon, take me away!”
He laughed and casually asked, “What’s that mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s that mean?’ ” I said. “Didn’t you ever hear the expression, “Calgon, take me away?”
“No,” he said, in all seriousness.
After going into a lot of detail about the Calgon commercial from a few years back, and explaining that all women understand the plea when they’re having a bad day, he answered with, “I think you’re making that up. I never heard of such a thing!”
“I am not! You just ask anyone,” I said.
He started laughing, making me angry, even though I realized we were acting like kids.
“What’s so funny?” I said, more than a little disgruntled.
He reached out, wiped at my face with his hand and said, “You’ve got something white all over your face.”
Breaking into a giggle, I told him about the cornstarch incident and he pitched in to help with a little clean-up before we ate our slightly over-cooked dinner.
And just as we sat down – the phone rang.