Maybe I Should Go Back to Work

I've been off a week, and have a week to go before returning to my job.  The first week off was lovely and restful, with a trip to Houston, and a small dent in my two-week at-home-to-do-list.

The last few days make me think that the utility of getting things done and resting may be outweighed by the increasing odds that I might do permanent, lasting damage to the house and/or its occupants.

I'll explain.

Saturday night, I made a big batch of homemade macaroni and cheese for the family.  You make a roux  (or you'll roux the day!), add milk, cheese, more cheese, and finish it with cheese. Simmer till its hot, molten and gooey.  You then pour this molten lava of cheese into the baking dish for which the cooked macaroni has already arrived, ready for its lava bath, and then bake it for a bit.

I picked up the handle of the pan that was full-to-the-top with cheese-stravaganza.  What the recipe didn't say was that the cheese sauce triples in density, and becomes like, 60 pounds (since it started with 20).  I picked up the handle and the pan listed 32 degrees to Starboard, causing the cargo to breach the pan levee and spill directly onto the stove and oven below.  Now, this was not your ordinary spill.  Sure, some got on the stove top.  Some ran down the front of the oven.  Some hit the floor, oozed a bit, than hardened to superglue cheese residue.  Both in front of the oven and two feet under it.  As well as under the refrigerator.  And oddly in the toaster, and the ceiling of the pantry in the next room.

The craziest thing is that it got IN the over.  Not inside the oven "cavity" (a second reference that will fundamentally change my relationship to my oven).  But in-between the two glass panes that make up the over door.

Jill, who is technically in charge of "clean-up" to my "cooking" pointed out that thus was a bit of an outlier from our agreement, with milky, molten cheese that still had some cheesy bits,  projected all over the place,  Yes, we both briefly then harkened back to separate college experience memories.  Mine included a drink called the "Mind Eraser" and nacho cheese Doritos.  Technically, several drinks called "Mind Erasers."

But she did what she could, cleaning up every visible cheese foul that was not completely inside an appliance one should not take apart.  Leaving everything mostly clean, except for the trailing tears of cheese inside the oven door.

My proposal: "I'll crank that puppy up to 900 degrees, and either the cheese with vaporize, or one or more windows will melt open.  Wa-la! An access to clean in between the glass."  Request denied.

Blossom swooped in to lick it up, but ended up doing the abridged version of Goldilocks and the three bears. 

"This cheese ooze is TOO HOT. 
This cheese ooze is hard glued to the floor and is TOO COLD.  
Where is the baby bear cheese ooze?  
You know what, just get me my ball.  

And then you can throw it. 

My ball is outside.  

Where it is cold and wet.  

I want to go outside, because my ball is there.  

But I don't like cold and wet.  

Could I go out?  

It's cold and wet, could I come right back in?  

Could I go back out again?  

 It's cold and wet, could I come right back in?

Could I go out again and get my ball? You could throw it.

This is a segue to the second half of my story.  I was up early this morning and it was in fact cold and wet outside, and I wanted to surprise everyone with a nice roaring fire when they woke up.  So I started one, and then went into the kitchen to formulate a plan to take apart the oven to make it lactose intolerant yet again.

A had just about figured that part out when I noticed the smoke.  Kinda billowing into the room instead of up the chimney.  Yes, I checked the flue.  I am only a partial idiot, thank you very much!

Rapid diagnosis - too much ash at the bottom from previous fires, creating a covalent effect where the mass of ash was convecting smoke up and out of the convex fireplace instead of toward the chimney.

Translation: I have no fucking idea why this is happening, and I am going to do the first thing that pops into my head and try to give it some science-sounding bullshit later.

Turns out the first thing that popped into my head was that it certainly looked like that was a lot of leftover ash.  I need to get a paper bag and the ash shovel and take care of this!

Quiet down!  I was there.  I realize that taking ash from an active fire has a few special challenges.  Like getting active ash.  That's why I used the PAPER BAG.  And checked carefully (or, more accurately, poked around a little at the top) to MAKE SURE ABSOLUTELY NO LIVE ASH was visible to me on my cursory look.

Important safety tip - knowing that even though my process was thorough, that there could be unexpected, unknowable variables (the unknown unknowns), I left the paper bag with the ash that probably didn't have any active ash in it ON the fireplace, and was only one room away cleaning the oven.  It's not like I brought it up to Abby's room (she likes to play with old ash).

I'd also like to point out that I successfully took apart the oven and cleaned the inside of the glass, even though cleaning doesn't fall under my purview.

About 1/2-way through my successful oven clean, I heard what can only be decribed as a "PPFFFFFFFTTTTTT   POOF!"  Followed by a puff of ash and a burning smell (and not the good kind like inside the fireplace.)

Since I had the foresight to only be one room away, I arrived almost instantaneously to the fireplace.  It seems that, even with my diligence, there was a stray ash or two that could have been considered "not out."  And my quick CSI investigation found the burnt hole at the bottom of the bag and the over-sized matchbox whose matches has all gone up in a "PPFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT" My due diligence apparently failed to note that I placed the paper bag o' ash (now confirmed to be a hybrid between "good" and "bad" ash) ON TOP of the large box of over-sized matches.  In hindsight, my safety plan should have included a provision to move the box of matches away from the possible, but unlikely (except that it happened) fire source.

But whereas "PPFFFFFFFFFTTT" is a terrible sound, "POOF!" is a savior.  Once the matches went off all at once, it burned a hole in the bottom of the ash bag, which was still MOSTLY inactive ash (though I will admit it was less than 100%), and the ash poured down and smothered the matches.  I picked up the smoldering mess, carried it quickly to the sink, and then everybody got a good rinsing.

And finally, it was still only 7:30, which gave me an hour or more to 1) clear the house of smoke; 2) clean up cheese goop; 3) clean up the aftermath of the great Matches and Ash Fire of 2014; 4) do  something with the now soaked paper bag of ashes lying in our sink; and 5) figure out some way to blame Leo the cat for at least part of this.

At 8:45, I went back upstairs to say good morning to my beautiful wife.  My exact words:

"Happy Anniversary.  I didn't burn the house down!"

It's our eighteenth anniversary today (our marriage can now vote!).  While I strive to keep the house fire-free on all days, and I don't wake Jill to let her know all the days I didn't burn down the house, today was a special day.

In a wicked coincidence, the 18th is in fact the "Ash Anniversary."
Look it up.