Thursday, March 5, 2009


The other day I made a killer lasagna. My trick? Rinse the cottage cheese, then drain it through a tea towel to make it nice and crumbly. Then add it to the Ricotta, with a beaten egg and some Parmesan. Delish.

But it was killer in another way, as well.

You see, I like to eat leftovers for lunch, and I was so excited to have a slice of this tasty cheesy treat yesterday. I microed it, covered in a paper towel of course, and then let it sit in the microwave while I patiently waited for it to reach eatable temperature. When it was time, I whipped open the door to the microwave, reached in to retrieve my noodley yumminess, when the microwave door decides it wants to fight back. It came swinging back to the closed position, which it would have achieved, had my eye not been directly in the spot where the hook latches it closed.

I took it right to the edge of my ocular. I swore, sorry Mom, and instantly thought I was going to be blind. I rushed to the sink, fearing a blood storm, grabbed a towel to stop the flow, when I realized something. Nothing. Nothing at all. No blood. No eye juice. No nothing at all. At first I was little miffed, because I was expecting something great after all that pain. Then I was relieved that I wasn't blinded. Then I was fully expecting to see a great big bruise that I could pass off as my battered wife wound.

Still, nothing. Don't get me wrong. It hurts like Hell. I can't even squint my eye without a stinging sensation permeating my face and eye ball. But there isn't even a mark where the stupid thing hit me! Not a mark! I have acne scars more noticeable than this thing.

I'm such a wuss. But hopefully in a day or two it will bruise up nicely so I can play the battered wife card and get some sympathy.


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