Cooking makes you cold.
I'm chilly because it's 33 degrees out despite the 11 mph wind from the SSE, and I got home hungry.
I saw a bowl of red new potatoes on the counter, and thought I'd just bake a few right up in the microwave.
Now, a couple of Christmases back, Holly's mom gave us this really cool baked potato thing that was basically a double thick cloth back that you could fit about three bakers in, fold it over, and bake them in the microwave, and they come out incredible. They cook faster, and they come out fluffier. Damndest thing I ever saw. Something about retaining just enough of the steam that boils out of them to help properly bake them.
Anyway, I wanted the thing.
And it was in the laundry hamper, right on a pile of my daughters' and my own occassionally skid-marked undies and dirty socks. I ain't cookin' potatoes in that, 'til it gets a goodly cycle in the Whirlpool on Hot.
Well, hell-- what's an oven mitt but some quilted cloth, kinda like that potato-cooking bag?
So I sat 5 new potatoes on one oven mitt, and covered them with the other. I didn't want to put them in the oven mitt, because... Um, I just didn't. Hell, I don't know why.
And I set my 'wave for 5 minutes and some, and sat down to surf.
The 'taters finished by evidence of the ding, and I smelled something kinda pungent. Hm. Musta been something on one of the oven mitts, that heated up. I kept surfing. Ten minutes later, it seemed worse.
I opened up the microwave, and got my potatoes from two smoking oven mitts. Actually, the proper word is "smoldering." Opening the microwave made one of them go into a low flame. After a visit to Mr Sink for some expedient fire extinguishment, I realized that we were soon to be hearing from Mr. Fire Alarm, damned quick, if I didn't do something. As it was about 1 AM, that would mean that I would be visited by Faces Like Walnuts, and Mrs. Bitchy-Pants.
I got to work.
Front Door: Flung open.
Back Door: Flung open.
Bathroom stink fans: On.
Ceiling fans: Turned on to Warp-Factor-4-Mr.Sulu, Scotty-can't-you-get-me-more-power?.
Took about 10 minutes of that fresh breeze blowing through to get the stench out.
The potatoes were just right, though.