It’s no use crying over spilt milk, but I almost did. Literally. Yesterday morning I was awoken to a phone call at 6:45am by one of the employees of the coffee bar telling me they wouldn’t be making it to work today. Awesome. We open at 7:00, so I jumped out of bed, which if you know me is some kind of miracle in itself, and threw some clothes on. Luckily I live only a couple minutes away. So here we go, I’m up, coffee’s on, cinnamon rolls are in the oven, so far so good. I had some pretty hefty boxed lunch orders that had to be done by 11:00am, so I’m prepping food, baking cookies, waiting on customers all as quickly as possible. I’m feeling good right, it’s all working out and I haven’t even had any coffee myself yet. Then I get an order for a breakfast bowl…eggs, cheese, bacon. I look at the microwave only to find that it’s dead. Not the first time this has happened, the toaster and microwave are very needy little appliances. They both like to be the center of attention and sometimes if you decide to use them at the same time, then watch out, because they’ll just quit on you all together. Usually it’s an easy fix, a pain in the behind, but not a big deal. Flip the circuit breaker, or reset the power strip and you’re usually golden. NOT TODAY. I flipped multiple breakers, moved the fridge, unplugged the cords, plugged them back in, unplugged them again, plugged them back in, found a new power strip, plugged the cords in, unplugged the cords, you get the idea…nothing. Then I realized that the problem was the microwave itself, toaster is toasting like that’s it’s job. So I had to call the reinforcements. 30 minutes of my precious prep time are now gone and still no breakfast bowl. I had to move on to other things while I waited, so I opened the refrigerator to put something away and without any warning whatsoever a gallon of milk plummets to its death onto the floor exploding ALL over the kitchen and all over me. When I say exploding, I’m not exaggerating, not one bit. From one side of the kitchen to the other, milk was splattered on everything. I found milk on the inside door of the oven on the other side of the kitchen. I looked down and now I had a lake of leche spread across the middle of the floor. All I wanted to do was cry. I just stood there and stared at it for minute thinking ‘of course this would happen right now, this morning, yep of course, why wouldn’t it?’ Since I couldn’t cry, all I could do was laugh. It wasn’t funny at the time, nope not at all, but really what else can you do? When life throws suicidal milk jugs at you, it’s no use crying over spilt milk so all you can do is mop it up and move along.
I’m really disappointed I didn’t think to take a picture of the devastation in the kitchen so you could see how serious I am about the milk being EVERYWHERE.