I have a few of these – when my ingenuity surprises me.
Yesterday, I was too lazy/forgetful to clean out the coffeemaker. It’s one of those fancy grind & brew thingies, and as such it needs to be cleaned after every use or shit gets crazy up in there. I forgot to do it yesterday and usually when that happens I will switch to
methadone tea, but today I really, REALLY needed coffee because I was nursing an Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold FacePunch hangover. Coffee was a necessity.
So I did my half-assed best to get the thing cleaned (and dried, because eww) and scooped out the right number of scoops (the frequency of my having to start this step over is high), water, blahblah, and hit the “YAY COFFEE SOON GO” button. Then the uh, filter door mechanism thingy decided to unlatch itself and fly open, which OH NOES. I managed to get it to close without too much ground coffee loss but it wasn’t wanting to stay closed so I had to MacGuyver it with a napkin.
The second of these moments happened just now – I was getting ready to make dinner and like usual, I had forgotten to take the chicken breasts out of the freezer. I do this a lot.
Now, we have a microwave and apparently the #1 use for microwaves after burning popcorn in them is to defrost shit. Well, knock me over with a feather because I have RARELY done this successfully, despite having been an enthusiastic microwave owner for near on to 25 years. Nothing ever defrosts like it’s supposed to, especially chicken because the edges get all cooked and shit while the middle is still icy. Unacceptable.
So what’s a lady to do? If I have a good 15 extra minutes, I’ll run some super-hot water into a bowl and dunk my chicken in there (protected by its ziploc bag, obvs), and it will soften up enough for me to do whatever needs to be done to it with an eye on a slight cooking time modification. I am usually awesome enough to pull this move off fairly successfully.
Today, however, it was getting a bit late and The Jillian was frothing at the mouth, wanting food because apparently you have to feed children more often than once a day. In a rare burst of multi-housewife-tasking (meaning I was doing more than one housewife task at a time, not that I have multi housewives, despite me asking for a sister-wife for my birthday every year), the dishwasher happened to be running (I totally almost typed “dishwarsher” because I am my grandmother’s favorite grandkid) so I may or may not have tossed the ziploc’d chicken bosom in there on the top shelf.
Yeah, I did. I’ll set you a place if you’re coming over for dinner.