The Incident

It all began with the desire for homemade popcorn. You know, the old fashion kind made on top of the stove. I was at my friend's house for the night a few weeks ago for our weekly girls' night out. After loading up on chai and watching hilarious you-tube videos I get a phone call from Bruce...

Ann: Hello?
Bruce: Hey! Can you pick up some 9-volt batteries on your way home?
Ann: Uh...sure.
Bruce: Ok! Thanks!

Random request from uncharacteristically cheery husband at 11pm. That should have been red flag numero uno.

I left my friend's house at 11:30pm to head home. Crossed the I-5 bridge and really didn't want to go to Winco at midnight. *phone call #2*...

Bruce: Hello?
Ann: Yeah, how critical are those batteries tonight?
Bruce: We need them tonight. Yeah....ummm....tonight! Sorry.
Ann: *sigh* Mmmmkay.

The immediate need for 9-volts at midnight on a Tuesday should have been red flag #2. Batteries were obtained and I arrived at home. I walked through the front door....

Bruce: Hey!! Soooo, how was the girls' night?!
Ann: Uh...good.
Bruce: Awesome! That's great, Ann.
Ann: Uh-huh.

The fact that Bruce was still in an uncharacteristically super good mood when I arrived at home around midnight should have been red-flag #3. Of course, it's all so clear now, looking back.

I walked into the kitchen....

Ann: Why do I smell smoke?
Bruce: Well...ya see....there was an incident.
Ann: An incident?
Bruce: An incident.

I walked back into the living room to face Smiling-Bruce. I guess he thought the smiling might soften the full force of "the incident." I returned to the kitchen and then I saw it, glaring at me from the tile in the middle of the kitchen floor -- a black ring of charred kitchen tile.

Ann: Bruce! What is this burned spot?!
Bruce: Well...ya see... there was an incident.
Ann: Yeah, I gathered as much. What happened? And hang on. Is that another charred spot next to the front door?
Bruce: Well, it all started with a craving for some homemade popcorn on the stove. So as usual I heated the oil. While it was heating I went to check on the wood stove fire in the living room. I started daydreaming. Then I heard what sounded like a jet taking off in our kitchen. I rushed into the kitchen and saw flames from the pot all the way up to the ceiling.
Ann: WHAT?!?!
Bruce: Yeah. I grabbed the lid and got the fire under control. I then picked up the pot and flames came shooting out of the sides of the pan, so I set the pan down. on the tile.
Ann: Sooo....charred spot #1?
Bruce: Yeah. Then I had to get it out of the house. So I grabbed it and ran for the door, but had to set it down again to open the door. Thus...
Ann: Charred spot #2.
Bruce: Exactly. The whole house was filled with so much smoke. You cannot believe how much smoke there was. And not one smoke alarm went off. That's when I called you.
Ann: I see.

I wanted to yell at him and laugh my head off all at the same time. It's especially funny because if anyone in this marriage would have burned down the kitchen it would have been me. That's the irony, friends. Bruce is the super-cautious analytical one, and I'm the absent-minded, careless accidentally-placed-metal-in-the-microwave-during-emotional-meltdown cook. And this story is way funnier when Bruce tells it.