Hey Universe, Just LET ME HAVE MY POTATO CASSEROLE!

So its four o’clock in the afternoon and I was like,

“Oh wait, humans need to eat food to live! Forgot about that.”

Don’t worry I usually eat food that’s not the problem here. I was just too busy doing march madness. And that involved lots of laughing and crying so I was distracted.

ANYWAY.

So I feel hungry and look at the time and I’m like, “I’m gonna go get some leftover potato casserole for lunch.” So I get it out of the fridge and plop it onto a plate and put it in the microwave and I’m about to start the microwave when my mom walks past and she’s like,

“Hey I just cleaned the microwave, can you put a bowl on that?”

So I go and get a bowl and put it on top of my potato casserole and I start the microwave.

And then the weirdest thing starts happening.

My potato casserole starts making noises.

It was this low, guttural popping noise. Its freaking me out. I decide that my casserole is either alive and about to take over the world, or just making some warning noises before it blows up my kitchen. So I started making plans.

Alright, so if there is a fire, I can just turn on the sink and point the faucet all over the kitchen. Wait, isn’t there something with kitchen fires that water only makes them worse? I think so. I think I’m supposed to pour salt on it. Or is it flour. I feel like one of those is flammable and the other stops fires. So which is which?

But then, to my relief, the microwave beeps. And no potato monster comes out bent on killing the world’s farmers. So I decide that my worrying probably prevented the problem.

So I open the microwave.

Somehow, even with the plate on, my casserole had managed to squirt water all over the microwave anyway. But I just ignore the mess as I grab my plate, my glorious casserole—

And burn my hands.

I drop the plate, but luckily I had barely lifted it up so nothing broke.

EVERYTHING IS FINE.

I go and get an oven mitt, but none of our oven mitts have a thumb. Its just one big pocket for your hand.

Makes you grateful for fingers.

I manage to get my casserole out of the microwave and onto the counter. And then I decide that I’m going to lift the bowl off with a flourish, even there’s no one around to admire my microwave casserole.

So I try to lift the bowl off.

But its stuck.

It doesn’t really help that I’m wearing these big, clumsy, thumb-less oven mitts. And the bowl is super hot so I can’t even do it with my hands. So I’m just basically rubbing these oven mitts all over a bowl trying to find a grip somewhere, but failing. Luckily, no one else is in the kitchen, because I look pretty pathetic.

While I’m trying to get my casserole, I start to feel guilty about mess I made in the clean microwave. I decide it wouldn’t take too long to just wipe it down real quick and make it as good as new.

I go to grab some paper towels from under the sink, but there’s nothing there. The paper towels are gone. I open a drawer looking for a rag or something, but somehow, every single rag has gone somewhere else today. Usually we have lots of rags. I check every drawer.

Not.

One.

Rag.

Since I’m still feeling bad about the mess, I decide to go downstairs to see if there are any paper towels in our storage. I go downstairs, go into the storage, navigate around old tools and holiday decorations, and come to the place where the extra paper towels usually rest.

Emphasis on usually.

That’s right, there’s no extra paper towels.

In fact, there’s an empty spot where the paper towels usually lay. I can feel this spot of ground watching me, maybe mocking me.

Okay, not really, I’m just being dramatic.

However, I spot a paper napkin from thanksgiving on the ground. After a moment, I snatch it up and hurry back upstairs. Once I’m back in the kitchen I open the microwave and wipe it down with the ground napkin.

Boom.

Clean.

Now for my potaoes.

I turn back to my plate, which still has a bowl on top. Somehow, a piece of potato has gotten out from underneath the bowl. Don’t ask me how.

I grab a fork and eat this piece of potato. It is delicious. It is glorious. The potato goes wonderfully with the cheese and milk and cream. It is…

Just one piece.

Oh, how wonderful it would be, to be able to eat a whole plate of potato casserole, and not just that one piece. Oh, how tasty it would be.

The plate was still too hot. I put on my thumb-less oven mitts.

And proceed to rub them all over the bowl, searching for some sort of grip.

Once again, I look pathetic.

But then, it happens. I grip a rough spot on the bowl, and slowly, ever so slowly, lift the bowl off.

The casserole is an incredible sight.

I breath out a sigh of relief, and bring the casserole over to a chair. I sit down and place the casserole in front of me. I can barely contain my excitement as I peel off my oven mitts and pick up my fork.

My entire life has led to this moment.

I spear a piece with my fork, and bring it to my mouth.

It smells so good.

I take a bite.

And it burns my tongue.

😐