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The good news is
Sep. 6th, 2018 12:30 amNO diabetic changes to my eyes. Woot! We're trying a new type of contact too. However, getting your eyes dilated at 8 AM and then having to stare into a projector for 3 hours as I teach was murder.
Then I came home.
So I was putting away a jar of Puttanesca sauce in the fridge for later use. Now I DO know better than to carry it in my bad hand but I forget. I dropped it. Luckily the glass didn’t break. But the lid did come off. Sauce splashed on all three sides of the fridge. It knocked the grill off the bottom of the fridge spilling sauce under there. It spattered the wall next to the fridge.
But it wasn’t done, there. Oh no. Literally three times the amount of sauce that could possibly be IN a jar came sloshing out as if this jar was a portal to a realm made entirely of Puttanesca sauce. It splattered my feet, my legs, my shorts, my shirt, my GLASSES. It sprayed the entire width of my kitchen floor. It splattered the cabinets on the far wall, up to the sink and onto the WINDOW.
I’m standing there in the middle of a puttanesca bukkake, all but sobbing. Then I run out of paper towels so I’m ninja-ing across the carpet – so not to get it from my feet that won’t come clean - to the other room to get more. Anchovy oil is seeping out of this stuff everywhere. It takes about half a roll of towels to clean everything up. The jar miraculously still has sauce in it (seriously, is there a Puttanesca Hellmouth spewing this stuff inside this jar?).
Ninja back across the carpet, shimmy out of clothes and me and the clothes go in the shower.
And the real topper? Now the damn sauce has given me heartburn.
Then I came home.
So I was putting away a jar of Puttanesca sauce in the fridge for later use. Now I DO know better than to carry it in my bad hand but I forget. I dropped it. Luckily the glass didn’t break. But the lid did come off. Sauce splashed on all three sides of the fridge. It knocked the grill off the bottom of the fridge spilling sauce under there. It spattered the wall next to the fridge.
But it wasn’t done, there. Oh no. Literally three times the amount of sauce that could possibly be IN a jar came sloshing out as if this jar was a portal to a realm made entirely of Puttanesca sauce. It splattered my feet, my legs, my shorts, my shirt, my GLASSES. It sprayed the entire width of my kitchen floor. It splattered the cabinets on the far wall, up to the sink and onto the WINDOW.
I’m standing there in the middle of a puttanesca bukkake, all but sobbing. Then I run out of paper towels so I’m ninja-ing across the carpet – so not to get it from my feet that won’t come clean - to the other room to get more. Anchovy oil is seeping out of this stuff everywhere. It takes about half a roll of towels to clean everything up. The jar miraculously still has sauce in it (seriously, is there a Puttanesca Hellmouth spewing this stuff inside this jar?).
Ninja back across the carpet, shimmy out of clothes and me and the clothes go in the shower.
And the real topper? Now the damn sauce has given me heartburn.
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