Fiery Pasta
Today was not a very good day.
1. It rained, a lot.
2. I had to run this report 4 times at work because I kept messing it up (I felt weird about asking my boss how to run it because I thought that he had already shown me but then I remembered that he didn't actually show me.)
3. I set my pasta on fire.
Now I honestly did not realize how flammable pasta truly is. But with the aid of:
Stupidity (not thinking to BREAK THE PASTA IN HALF before putting it into the pot)
+ super tough spaghetti that takes an insane amount of time to soften and melt into the water
+ gas stove,
I now realize that "wow, if I ever get lost in the middle of Antarctica and all I had was a box of spaghetti and a matchbook, I should not fear hypothermia!"
I had to dump 5 bowls of water onto the pasta to squelch the flames. And then the fire alarm went off. I thought about opening the door, but realized that I didn't want the fire alarms in the hallway to go off (which would be really bad) so I opened the window, which because we're on the 21st floor, only opens a tiny crack - to prevent suicides, throwing big objects out the window to see if it will hit that annoying man on the corner, etc. Thankfully, the alarm finally turned off.
O, and when I put my lid down on the counter, it touched my sandwich bag and instantly burned a hole through it. Apparently the fire had increased the temperature of my lid to mutant levels. Now I don’t have anywhere to put my sandwich in tomorrow!
I ended up microwaving my pasta & sauce (the stove having stopped working for some reason). Ahh, late dinners, how I try so hard to avoid thee and fail.
Anyway, as I said when I saw the kitchen for the first time, "I don't like gas stoves."
1. It rained, a lot.
2. I had to run this report 4 times at work because I kept messing it up (I felt weird about asking my boss how to run it because I thought that he had already shown me but then I remembered that he didn't actually show me.)
3. I set my pasta on fire.
Now I honestly did not realize how flammable pasta truly is. But with the aid of:
Stupidity (not thinking to BREAK THE PASTA IN HALF before putting it into the pot)
+ super tough spaghetti that takes an insane amount of time to soften and melt into the water
+ gas stove,
I now realize that "wow, if I ever get lost in the middle of Antarctica and all I had was a box of spaghetti and a matchbook, I should not fear hypothermia!"
I had to dump 5 bowls of water onto the pasta to squelch the flames. And then the fire alarm went off. I thought about opening the door, but realized that I didn't want the fire alarms in the hallway to go off (which would be really bad) so I opened the window, which because we're on the 21st floor, only opens a tiny crack - to prevent suicides, throwing big objects out the window to see if it will hit that annoying man on the corner, etc. Thankfully, the alarm finally turned off.
O, and when I put my lid down on the counter, it touched my sandwich bag and instantly burned a hole through it. Apparently the fire had increased the temperature of my lid to mutant levels. Now I don’t have anywhere to put my sandwich in tomorrow!
I ended up microwaving my pasta & sauce (the stove having stopped working for some reason). Ahh, late dinners, how I try so hard to avoid thee and fail.
Anyway, as I said when I saw the kitchen for the first time, "I don't like gas stoves."