Done and Overdone

Saturday was a nice day for a drive, so I headed back to the medical center for bloodwork.

Arriving at 9:30, judging by that last experience, I was prepared for a long wait with two Woman’s World magazines and the iPod to entertain me, just in case I finished reading the mags.

My number was 10.

The number being served was 93.

Seventeen ahead of me. About the same number as were ahead of me the day before but what a difference a day makes.

The Saturday crew was way more efficient than Friday’s crew, because numbers began to click down at such a rapid pace that I didn’t get through the first magazine.

My number was reached at 9:53 and I was on the road headed back to the complex by 10:02.

So, bloodwork is done.

Overdone was my latest foray in the kitchen.

Deciding on sweet potato chips and coffee for lunch that day, I thinly sliced a sweet potato, dusted with a Cajun spice mix I put together myself, olive oil and put in the oven to slow roast.

It usually takes some time for the slices to crisp, so I logged onto the computer and was surfing around during which surfing I became vaguely aware of a weird smell.

Not nearly enough time for the chips to be done. Not even close, though I, so I ignored the smell until it was so bad that I finally got up to investigate.

I’d forgotten to set the oven to slow and low.

At least the smoke detector didn’t go off this time.

A funny smell hit my nose just the day before, while on the couch deeply engrossed in that needlepoint project after returning from the failed trip to the lab.

What is that? thought I, but that’s as far as it went.

A short while later the smoke detector went off, which caused me to look up from the needlepoint and see the room I was seated in was filling with smoke.

Turns out, I’d placed a cast iron skillet on a burner that hadn’t been turned off.

Opening the front door and patio window to allow smoke to flow away from the smoke detector and turning on the stove fan to suck smoke out got things under control rather quickly, and you think I’d subsequently pay more attention to my sense of smell.

But nooooo. The very next day, I ignored the burning smell until the sweet potatoes burned to a crisp.

My mom, in her senior years, burned down her kitchen ... three times in a row. Homeowner’s paid for a brand-new kitchen each time, but still.

Renters insurance isn’t required for this complex, but I’m glad I finally broke down and decided to get it a little over a year ago.

Still wanting chips for lunch, I gave it a second go.

Nice and crisp. Spicy, healthy and addictively tasty. Worth the effort.

On tap for today is to find out how the seniors reacted to those raunchy Movie Night sex scenes between Billy Bob and Haley.