"For those who have never met me, or those who are desperately trying to forget me (even though you're still here, able to read this):
I am short. Really short. When I say short, you should think 3'10"-on-a-good-hair-and-shoe-
Fourteen years ago, Big Sexy bought me two spring boards (think gymnastics) as an engagement present. One is in our bedroom, so that I can get into bed every night. The other is in our kitchen so that I can get up onto the counters and access the upper cabinets . . .
This morning, after fighting with Mr. Frustration, himself (aka Rocco) & getting everyone dressed and fed, I was unloading the dishwasher. It is here that I encountered a pie plate.
This pie plate's home is (of course) in an upper cabinet. However, we're talking about my kitchen. Which means that there isn't a nice, clean and empty spot for the pie plate to easily slide into. There is a TOWER of spring form pans, tart pans, cake pans, flan pans and other pie plates that is precariously perched on the second-from-top shelf. Putting this pie plate away means that I have to spring board myself up on top of the counter, maneuver the entire tower down from its spot, disassemble half the tower, put the pie plate in its proper place, reassemble the tower, precariously place it back on the second-from-top shelf and then (using my husband's old tower climbing harness) repel myself down off the counter to safety.
I know that I could have had this pie plate put away in the time it's taken me to write this. But, I'm just not in the mood. Which means that I'm going to spend the better part of the next hour trying to find a kick-ass dinner recipe that can be prepared in this squeaky clean pie plate."
Anyone care to join me?
UPDATE: The night this was written, Big Sexy brought home all the fixings for Tenderloin Fondue. So, that squeaky clean pie plate remains . . . squeaky clean.
