Paragon Mills Park

I Want to Hide from My Oven

Did I mention that I set the inside of the oven on fire at Thanksgiving? Like four tons of dripping, fiery marshmallows dripping fire (as you’d expect from the first part of that sentence) all over the inside of my oven? Flames licking the bottom of the turkey, threatening the green bean casserole?

And then remember how I woke up early the next day to go to North Carolina? And then went to work for a week? And ate only leftovers I heated up on the stove or in the microwave until I got the shits from old turkey?

Well, it turns out that, in that time, not a single magic oven fairy came and cleaned out the inside of my oven. And yet, if I ever want to use the oven again, it’s going to need to be cleaned.

Which, sadly, means I have afternoon plans. Disgusting, sad afternoon plans.

I should have done it yesterday when I was busy reading Sookie Stackhouse. I have to say, as ridiculous as the books are, season four of True Blood was just so bad that I am always relieved to read the books. I’m glad to have both versions of the story in my head, but I’m more glad to have the sweet and spunky version of the characters now. Reading the books, while being able to imagine TV Eric is the way to go, for sure.

Also, weirdly, Cracked is talking about The Lost Boys. Is it in the air?