I have to get a loudly-whistling kettle SOON before I burn the house down.Tucker
bought me a beautiful BEAUTIFUL tea kettle; it was large and shiny and lovely. I don't remember how I managed it, but I burned it to death (perhaps the whistle was too soft-spoken? I don't recall, but it made me sad when I destroyed it).
I tried getting a new, pretty, red one, but I had to take it back to the store because the whistle was SO weak, and I knew that spelled disaster. I bought a cheap replacement that I also recently managed to neglect during it's hot process (did I forget to put the whistle-thing down? Or did I forget to tamp down the lid and the steam escaped through there so it wouldn't whistle?). Whatever; it's burned up, the black plastic handle melted into hot lava down its silver sides and the bottom blackened and flaky.
Through all of this I've managed to not set fire to a house (these aren't the only water-boiling mishaps I've had, just the ones during the past two years). The past few months I've been boiling water for my breakfast tea in saucepans. Today I decided to put in a little more water in the pan than usual, which was fortunate because I totally forgot all about it until I left my office to go pee and smelled hot burning something coming from the kitchen. FUCK. Water all boiled off, only mineral remnants frying in the bottom. I *love* that saucepan, too, with its copper bottom. It's one that came from my mom's kitchen so it's been in my life for . . . ummm . . . twenty-five years, at least. I hope it's still usable since its my favorite pan for popping corn, but it looks like most of the copper is going to flake off.
This latest kitchen casualty will probably motivate me to buy a good new proper tea kettle, which will probably be a relief to Tucker; he gets stressed out when I hold onto my mug with my left hand while pouring boiling water into it using my right. He keeps telling me I'm going to burn myself and I need to SET THE MUG DOWN FIRST. It's charming, really, how bothered he gets when I take this minor risk.
You might wonder why I don't just use a microwave to boil water (and pop popcorn). Well, I hate microwaves. HATE them. The only thing they're good for is softening chocolate chip cookies. Microwaves disgust me -- I hate the way they sound, the way they always wind up smelling, the way they look, the way they take up so much space. HATE them. If we had a huge kitchen and money to burn on scary appliances, sure -- we'd have one and use it for heating up leftovers and stuff. But I'm not going out of my poor way to stuff one into a tiny-ass kitchen.
By the way, I hate dishwashers too. So there.
There are certain things that should be done by human hands, the old-fashioned way. Washing dishes is one of them. No matter how many times people scoff and tell me about the advances in dishwashers, no one I know has a faultless dishwasher. They all leave crusties or break things every so often. And I HATE the smell of dishwasher-washed dishes (or just the SMELL of a dishwasher running). Blech! I would rather smell food mouldering on a pile of stacked-up dishes waiting to be hand-washed than catch a whiff of that hot steamy dishwasher aroma and have to HEAR its noisiness on top of it. Maybe the problem is that no one I know is able to afford the latest and greatest dishwashing technology, but whatever . . . I doubt I will ever fully trust dishwashers. Even if I were rich enough to have a maid to load the dishwasher for me, I know I'd be skulking around the kitchen making his/her life miserable by questioning her judgement on which dishes s/he would put into the evil machine. Not my favorite mug -- noooooooooo!
I know it's crazy, but I just don't like the way microwaves cook food. I don't trust it. I'm suspicious. While it's delightful that you can microwave bacon and it will come out perfectly cooked and FLAT (instead of curly), there's something horribly wrong about that. I'll still eat it and everything, but not before narrowing my eyes at the microwave contraption to let it know that I'm onto it and it better not try anything funnier than making flat bacon.
Labels: money, mundane, technophobia, TURN-OFFS