To Arms!

Today was a day of perils, my friends.

I got home from work quite hungry, as it was one of those inconvenient shifts that leves you not hungry enough to eat lunch before you go in and positively starving by the time you get out and ready for an early dinner. Surveying my kitchen and noting, by the fact that the alcohol is beginning to outnumber the actual food, that I need to get to a grocery, I decided to make a morningside burger, a furger if you will.

My baking sheet was in the dish washer, so I flipped a baking pan over to use the bottom, a tried and true method. :) So I popped it in the oven, flipped it at the half-way point, and lined up the onions and cheese like little condimental soldiers in happy anticipation. The timer went off and I went to take it out when I discovered that I wasn't able to grip the pan through the pot holders in a way that gave me enough leverage to get the pan out.

It was a mighty stuggle. I tried pulling the rack out, but it stuck after an inch. Pushing it back in slid the pan further into the oven. Me:0 Pan:1 I attempted again to get a grip on the sides or even the underside of the pan to slip it out, but all I managed to do was slide off the edges pushing the pan a little forwards or backwards each time. Me:0 Pan:2 Giving in, I settled for slowly inching the pan towards the edges of the rack. As the pan neared the edge, however, it made one last desperate gambit which resulted in my arm meeting the top of the oven. Me: -32 Pan:350 Degrees, that is.

After leaving my wrist under the cold tap until it went numb, I valiently returned to the fray and managed to liberate my furger. Settled between two slices of bread, covered in onion and cheese, it looked the very picture of defeat. I ate my dinner with the smug satisfaction of the victorious.