REVENGE!!! Well, Sort of.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time you’ll probably recall the night that I was cooking dinner one night and Nick came and set the whole dinner on fire, threw it onto the kitchen floor and jumped up and down on it.
It may have taken 10 years, but I finally got revenge. 

Okay…maybe what I did was a tad bit worse, but really…he kind of had it coming to him. 

So, last night I made spaghetti and homemade red sauce and turkey meatballs for dinner.  Let me just say for the record…it was amazingly yummy.  At any rate…I was cleaning up and putting everything away and just generally being some kind of psychotically domestic type person (and we all know that NEVER happens, so be impressed with me) when disaster struck. 

I had already put the pot of molten hot lava spaghetti sauce into the refrigerator and was opening that little cheese/meat drawer when (and I’m still not sure how this happened) the goddamn pot full of Satan’s own magma sauce fell off the self and spilled all over my feet and pretty much the entire kitchen floor, much to Max the wonder puppy’s delight, because apparently his new favorite thing to do is chase escaping meatballs across the house. 

Much screaming and hoping onto kitchen counters in order to stick my burnt and blistered feet into the kitchen sink was taking place when my mom walked into the kitchen.  Well, of course, since I’m screaming and the kitchen is covered in red stuff, my mother naturally assumed, given my somewhat accident prone nature, that either I had seriously injured myself or that I had finally snapped and killed someone. 

Once I had assured her that the kitchen was not covered in blood, but rather coated in spaghetti sauce, the laughing commenced.  Honestly, I had to admit it was rather funny in this kind of I Love Lucy sort of way. 

I was about to start cleaning everything up when it dawned on me that I had pretty much destroyed what Nick was supposed to be having for dinner when he got back from work that night.  Seeing how I was in no mood to go to the store to pick something up and there was no way in hell I was going to cook something else, I did the only thing I could do. 

You can see where this is going, can’t you? 

I totally wrestled the meatballs away from the dog, scooped up the sauce with a ladle and put it back into the fridge like nothing had happened, called Nick and told him that dinner was in the fridge. 

Yeah…I’m pretty much going to hell.   

But in my defense, I did check to make sure that there was no dog hair or glass or weird kitchen floor funk in the sauce before I put it back in the fridge….and I had just washed the kitchen floor a couple of days ago, so it was fairly clean. 

No….I didn’t tell him before he ate. 

Yes…he is just now finding out about this by reading this blog.

No….he is NOT going to be happy

Yes, he is probably going to kill me. 

However, this doesn’t even come CLOSE to setting my dinner on fire, throwing it on the floor and jumping up and down on it, so I’m thinking we’re sorta even now.