The crock crack'd
We had household shenanigans to deal with this weekend. I mentioned that I had to plunge a toilet; because I was trying to put all my force behind it, I'd tried to press down on the stick of the plunger with my abdomen. Guess what: My abdomen has been sore ever since. Great. What can I say, I really wanted to get that done and over with. But that wasn't the only plumbing issue I had. When dad replaced the water heater and faucets recently, he turned off the water and bled the pipes. When the water is available again, generally you leave the faucets running so the air comes out. I discovered on Sunday that he'd neglected to do that with the utility sink in the laundry room. I went to use that because I needed to clean something, and ended up with an explosion of water on my glasses, clothes, and the wall behind me, which was a couple yards away. Nice. Thanks, dad.
Dad, however, had his own issue. My mother, ever the TV shopper, got some sort of porcelain pan from home shopping. My mother, who doesn't cook. She did make bread from a package in it soon after it arrived, and of course she was talking up all its attributes. This weekend, when dad decided to make meatloaf, my mother implored him to use it. We have a roasting pan. I got it for him for Christmas a few years back. It's lovely and does the job nicely. Mom's new pan is narrow and hard to deal with, and the handles are on the long sides, not the short ones, so it's awkward to grab. And, it turns out, when you take off the lid to set it down on the stove top like my father did, somehow that will cause it to crack in two and cause my father to swear loudly, since he knew my mother would kill him. Thankfully for him, he got a bit of a respite as mom was out running errands at the time and didn't find this out for a while. Aside from that, the thing is a pain in the rear as it has this sort of drip tray underneath the food so that it's not sitting in fat, I suppose, but in actuality that kind of made the meatloaf dry, and it was hard to cut within the pan like we're used to. Mom is now looking to have a replacement lid sent; I'd prefer she just send it back entirely and get a refund. But that's just me.
Dad, however, had his own issue. My mother, ever the TV shopper, got some sort of porcelain pan from home shopping. My mother, who doesn't cook. She did make bread from a package in it soon after it arrived, and of course she was talking up all its attributes. This weekend, when dad decided to make meatloaf, my mother implored him to use it. We have a roasting pan. I got it for him for Christmas a few years back. It's lovely and does the job nicely. Mom's new pan is narrow and hard to deal with, and the handles are on the long sides, not the short ones, so it's awkward to grab. And, it turns out, when you take off the lid to set it down on the stove top like my father did, somehow that will cause it to crack in two and cause my father to swear loudly, since he knew my mother would kill him. Thankfully for him, he got a bit of a respite as mom was out running errands at the time and didn't find this out for a while. Aside from that, the thing is a pain in the rear as it has this sort of drip tray underneath the food so that it's not sitting in fat, I suppose, but in actuality that kind of made the meatloaf dry, and it was hard to cut within the pan like we're used to. Mom is now looking to have a replacement lid sent; I'd prefer she just send it back entirely and get a refund. But that's just me.