Showing posts with label Kitchens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kitchens. Show all posts

Saturday 8 February 2014

Cheap Paint on Kitchen Walls...



Kitchen ceiling, kitchen floor, kitchen sink, cooker, washing machine, kitchen window, me....... 
So glad it's just a wee kitchenette....

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Wednesday 5 January 2011

How to be an idiot No 48

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Kitchens


For the idiot the kitchen is one of the wonders of the world! Here he will find so many areas in which to make his mark that he may well begin hyperventilating at the thought of what lies before him. Let us notice how an idiot deals with the microwave. He, his spouse or indeed his nurse, has produced some excellent home made soup. All our hero has to do is place this in the microwave oven to reheat the stuff. Simple enough! Well no actually. You see  a suitable dish is required for this job and Mr Idiot has already placed some soup into a china bowl and watched as this cracked apart and flooded the microwave with his dinner. Next he used one of those tinfoil ones that hunks of expensive meat arrive in. This resulted in an electrical storm such as those usually found only in the Serengeti National Park! However after much practice and a few words of advice from the woman in his life (Why isn't she doing this? That's what she is there for!) he chooses a suitable container, sets the time dial and stands back. Several minutes later he anxiously removes his soup and begins eating. This quickly ends as he discovers that he has set the time dial but not the temperature and is now eating tepid soup. He rushes back to the brute and inserts the soup somewhat angrily into the thing and sets both time and temperature correctly! Just to ensure success he adds another minute and retires grumping as he does so. Hunger is beginning to produce some irritability it appears. As the 'ping' sounds he rushes to the oven, grabs the door open and retrieves the soup. He does this in such a manner as to allow his now, 'piping hot' lunch to spill out and cover his the fingers! His screaming of unholy oaths encourages the container to be dropped onto the floor followed quickly by the contents. Standing by the freezer, his hand thrust inside in an effort to lessen the searing pain against the ice, he contemplates both the mess on the floor and his beloveds "Have an accident?" 
"No thanks, I already have one," he mumbles from behind the freezer door.
The red marks on the fingers disappear after a few weeks.


Ah, the freezer! While we have our hand inside it is noticeable that the ice has indeed began to clog the freezer cabinet. This calls for Idiot once more to show his qualities. The idiot looks upon such work as a bit of a nuisance as he has better things to waste his life upon. However to ensure the fridge freezer runs smoothly it must be defrosted every so often, about once every ten years or so, and now is the time to do this! He has in his mind a freezer compartment completely cleared of ice, the contents aligned in a practical order, and the machine running with a smooth gentle burr throughout the day. He of course deludes himself!
Mrs Idiot, not an idiot in herself but daft enough to end up with him, she would tackle this problem in a simple manner, after all that is one of her jobs innit? She who must be obeyed would have ensured the contents of the freezer compartment were allowed to run down before the operation began, she then would switch of the freezer, leave the door open for thirty minutes and then, in a smooth swift manner, remove the ice which has by now gathered on the floor of the compartment. This naturally is too much for an idiot.


His first step is to empty out the many frozen items found within. The second is to run around the floor retrieving the frozen peas that were in the upside down bag at the front, and also put back those garlic bread lumps that she insists on feeding him.  All items are dumped on top of the freezer cabinet in a higgledy piggledy fashion These include that green odd shaped thing  he found in the corner whatever that was! 
Work may now begin.
The idiot, who may or may not have switched the thing off, will grab a knife or some other dangerously sharp object and attack with a will the ice flows sufficient to worry shipping in the north Atlantic that has been allowed to dominate the brute! He cuts and thrusts with this impliment, shaking the cabinet and within minutes the floor is once again covered with frozen peas, hamburgers, and frozen peppers. These escapees will take several days to collect having found the strangest of places to run into, and even then will be discovered many weeks hence, usually sqashed and smelly, under his slippers. The pies which have removed themselves will be returned to, probably, their boxes whether covered with dust or not. With today's shop bought pies this may well make them more nutritious!


The chasing of the peas will not introduce any wisdom into our hero's mind. He will continue to cut and stab at the ice which slowly is beginning to give way, just as the remnants of  contents atop the freezer are also giving way and colapsing around the floor once again. His efforts to catch them as they fall enables the idiot to knock over the bottles at the side, breaking one and allowing the sauce therein to mix well with the floor beneath. While doing this the knife will enter under his left thumb and the red stain may well remain where it lands for some time before noticed. Much, much later, the ice removed, the floor mopped, the freezer is switched on again, that's if it had been off in the first place. The idiot has a large lunch. This is not because he requires one after his exertions but because he has taken so long to do the job that that most of the contents have begun to thaw and must be used immediately! His dealing with indigestion will be dealt with elsewhere!


Shall we regale you with his ability to place plastic items on the electric hob and turn on the wrong switch? Do you wish to know about his desperate opening of windows and doors to remove the acrid taste of plastic from the home? Is there really a need to detail the long and arduous struggle to replace the melted kettle, that bowl he never understood the purpose off, or his scraping the hot plastic from the (new) hob surfaces? I don't think so. Mr Idiot and his beloved, that's her holding a half empty (cheap) vodka bottle in one hand and a golf club in the other, need to be left alone to discuss his desire to be helpful around the house. I think it better we left them alone to do this, don't you?

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