Step One (There’s No Box Involved. Nor NKOTB. Promise.)

Mom:  So are you all ready for this afternoon?

Me:  Yup.  The litter is scooped.  The floors are spotless.  The kitchen canisters are in the oven.  I’m ready to go.

Yes, the kettle is in there, too.

Mom:  The canisters are in the oven?  Why does that sound familiar?

Me:  Didn’t you do that once?  Then you forgot they were in there.  I seem to remember something about turning on the oven and melting your car keys with the little fob remote on them.

Mom:  Oh that DOES sound familiar.  Now why the hell would I have put my canisters in the oven?

Me:  Why the hell would you put the TV remote in your purse?

Mom:  You little frip.

Me:  Love you.  You guys have exciting dinner plans?

Mom:  No.  What are you guys making for dinner?

Me:  Nothing that involves the oven, obviously.

Mom:  What?  Oh yeah, the canisters.  Your dad says he remembers the melted keys, too.  He thinks it happened at the old house.

Dad:  That incident is the reason we don’t keep car keys in canisters any more.

Mom:  So how did the open house go?

Me:  We had two whole people show up.  We’re going to need some sort of crowd control at the next one, obviously.

Mom:  Boo.

Me:  Yeah, I keep trying to sweet talk St. Joe, but nothing is happening.

Mom:  Screw that St. Joe.  He’s a fickle little shit.  You should do him in.

Me:  How do you “do in” a tiny plastic figurine?

Dad:  First you put him in a canister….


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27 thoughts on “Step One (There’s No Box Involved. Nor NKOTB. Promise.)

  1. I once melted a melamine plate in the over…yeah, those fumes are toxic. My sister and I barely survived. And of course my parents were all worried about the oven and the plate when they got home, not the fact that I saved their youngest daughters life with my quick thinking and opening every window in the house.

    Why would you keep your keys in the cannister? I’m baffled here…

    ♥Spot
    .-= Spot´s last blog ..The one where I’m a floater and sharks don’t eat us… =-.

  2. Yes! Kudos to Dad, bringing it full circle.

    This is a slow clap with an eventual standing ovation, then a whistle and a few shouts, followed by “Get you some, Dog!”

    (Once the slow clap starts going, it’s hard to know where to stop.)
    .-= Sarah P´s last blog ..Inadequacy, feelings of =-.

    1. I know, I know. I feed and water him everyday. I sing him little songs. I just would like for him to put me a little higher on the list of priorities.

      Do you think it would be inappropriate to find him a slutty barbie or bratz doll and bury her in there, too? Would he appreciate my throwing him a little action? I really don’t know how all this works…

      1. Open houses = Great way for realtors to get names and numbers of other potential clients who they can then possibly list the homes of, or sell other listings to. End of story. Has your realtor EVER called you and asked you to leave because he/she has someone coming to look because tey are interested in seeing your place????

        Anyway, as for St. Joe, maybe he would prefer the company of a Diego doll over a Barbie. Don’t be so quick to assume. Just sayin.
        .-= Wicked Shawn´s last blog ..I Accept That I Am An Average Person =-.

        1. You’re right. Of course you’re right. Here it is pride week and I’m just assuming Joe is a breeder.

          As for the realtor q, yes. I usually get kicked out a couple times a week. *sigh*

  3. My mom melted my little brother’s lunch box when we were kids. (My lunch box was metal and survived the holocaust.)

    This past Christmas, we had guests over, and they brought a plastic-wrapped pastry for us. Lacking counter space, my mom stored it in the (cool) oven. You can imagine where this is going…….

  4. hehe. I can’t put anything in the oven because i will not remember and cook it as well. My nemesis is the washing machine. i’ve ruined all sorts of things that didn’t get out of pockets on time.
    .-= britt´s last blog ..Irrational Fears =-.

  5. God, I’m having a terrible visual of your oven bursting open with rays of blinding vengence flying throughout your kitchen while St. Joe lays waste to everything in his path.
    That and you’ll bring down some sort of propery value pox upon Hoboken. Shudder.
    I knew a kid who drew glasses on a Mary statue with permanent marker once. Notice I said “knew” and “once”. I think a nun buried him on the west side of the playground.
    .-= Kelly´s last blog ..Postcard From Paradise =-.

  6. i so feel for you, i hated having open houses. so disruptive. just skip them, mostly tire-kickers come through, not real buyers. they’re better for the real estate agent looking for new clients than they are for you.

    also, they say to bake something recognizably homey like choc chip cookies or apple pie when people come through for a showing. personally, i would have a positive association with the house that had the special brownies in the oven.
    .-= pattypunker´s last blog ..tiny dancer in my hand =-.

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