Last night I reheated a meatball to throw on the spaghetti squash I was making for dinner (in case you were wondering how to shoehorn a bunch of fat and meat into a healthy vegetarian meal... oh, and don't forget the metric ton of Parmesan cheese...butter soaked garlic bread...). My husband Mike was standing next to me as I reached into the microwave with my clunky oven gloves to grab the little glass bowl I'd sat the meatball in for reheating.
You know where this is going don't you.
Yep. I dropped it.
The glass shattered on the tile floor. The little bit of leftover spaghetti sauce covering the meatball immediately multiplied itself by a thousand-fold and shot up from the floor to the ceiling, like some kind of sauce geyser, (do they have those in Italy?) splattering all over Mike's arm, clothes and face.
The sauce was screaming hot, so Mike started jumping around...all over the shards of glass while I stood there with my chin hanging, watching it all happen in slow motion.
We regret to inform you that dinner has been delayed...
Just about the time I finished cleaning up the sauce, Mike went trotting by leaving a trail of blood in his wake. For fans of medical thrillers, this was where we shifted to the triage portion of our dinner service, while I cleaned and band-aided his foot.
For the next hour I had to listen to how he was getting weak from loss of blood and would I mind finding his will so he could cross me off it in case he didn't wake up in the morning.