That Really Should Not Have Been that Complicated

Friday, July 19, 2013

I've decided that if I ever write a book (in all of my copious amounts of spare time, clearly), I have some pretty good titles for it, including but not limited to, That Really Should Not Have Been That Complicated. Possibly with a subtitle of some sort. Other titles that I have thrown around at some points for this non-existent book are:

How Do You Pack for a Mental Hospital?: Why Med School is a Terrible Idea

"I Have No Idea How to Use a Round Brush" and Other Reasons I'm a Terrible Girl

I Think My Hypothalamus is Broken: Tales of the Undiagnosable

What would you call your book, if you were writing one? What do you think I should call my book, that I may or may not write one day, based on blog entries, life experiences, journal writings, and general crazy stories?


This week has been, for lack of a better word, hellacious. Not only has it been in the mid-to-high 90's every day (with the heat index being over 100), I had a midterm in cell bio that I was not as prepared for as I would have liked, our condo is still half a disaster, and my mom had to have surgery on her shoulder.

Oh, and our stove burst into flames.

No, I'm not kidding. I wish that I was kidding. Ken and I were cooking dinner on Wednesday evening. Our first home-cooked meal in our new house. Meatballs were in the oven, and a pot of water was on the stove to boil for pasta. Suddenly, Ken stood up because the stove was smoking, and we figured that some residue on the stove was burning. When he lifted up the pot, 8 inches of fire shot out of the burner. It was not optimal.

He stood there, telling me to open a window and asking how to use the fire extinguisher, and since I had learned how to use one my freshman year in chem class (our professor was a volunteer fire fighter and believed we all should know how to use one, so he set fires in trashcans and had us put them out), I grabbed it, said, "This is not the time for reading instructions!" and put out the fire, saving our lives and our cabinets, but not our dinner.

Also, dry chemical fire extinguishers, while extremely good at their intended purpose, are not good if you would like to keep your kitchen clean. Mono-ammonium phosphate covered every flat surface in the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room area. And halfway down the hall. Luckily, we had closed our master bedroom door and the guest bathroom door, but the office wasn't so lucky. Once we had ascertained that we weren't going to go up in flames, I called our property manager (no answer), called our renter's insurance (no, we aren't filing a claim), and cleaned up as much mess as we could find. By 10:00, we decided that it was "good enough" and went to Ruby Tuesday's to eat and grab a drink because, seriously.

So that was Wednesday. Thursday, I stayed home from work to take my mom to her shoulder surgery (she destroyed her rotator cuff trying to pick up one of the dogs or something) and spent the afternoon studying in the world's most crowded and noisy Panera. My friend Amy met me for lunch, which was nice, and then I went and studied some more in Philly with my classmate, Megan, before our exam. Of course, our professor is one of those that lectures for an hour (on non-exam material) before he gives the exam, so I spent the hour looking over my notes instead of paying attention to what I'm sure was a riveting lecture on microtubules and actin. The exam was... rough. The professor doesn't believe in multiple choice questions, and instead wants us to write short essays on everything. His questions are designed to be more "figure out what I'm asking" and less "show me your knowledge" which is really irritating. I think I did fine, but it was just stressful. On the way home from class, my car's check engine light came on. ::headdesk:: I know that it's probably nothing, and even if it is something, my extended warranty will (most likely) cover whatever it could possibly be. But... seriously, did not need more things to happen this week.

Tonight, I am going to go get my eyebrows waxed (because that always makes me feel better), and then I'm hopefully going to return these clothes that have been hanging out in my car for awhile. I have a feeling that I'm only going to get store credit, but I need some new things anyway, so I guess that's not terrible. At some point, I have to go clean the old apartment (again?) and see what the heck they meant when they said to "repair the carpet". I also need to figure out what I'm wearing to this wedding tomorrow, and also study. And maybe unpack some more things. And try to fix the Comcast, which isn't getting a signal. And I guess eat dinner at some point.

Anyway, this post was kind of silly and pointless, but here are some photos of my kitchen after the fire was extinguished:

Front right burner was the one on fire...
So much mono-ammonium phosphate...


And now I'm off to go attempt productivity and not melting in this goddamn heatwave.

- A


  1. "The life of a salmon; swimming upstrea...CRAP! BEAR"

  2. I think that your book title needs to reference llamas in some way. Or there needs to be a llama on the cover at very least.

    Holy crap! Good job on knowing how to use a fire extinguisher! I . . . don't think we even have one, regardless on whether or not I know how to use it. :-/ I hope your property manager can do something to assure you that your stove will not go up in flames again!


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