Who Ordered the Clumsy Oaf?
Val's body decided that 5-6 colds so far this winter aren't enough, and a seventh cold showed up unexpected this weekend; she's getting around, but tired and not feeling too good.
She still taught a digital photography class and took another class at the Buffalo Arts Studio Saturday, and by the time she got home, she was tired, feeling crappy and not in the mood to go to dinner, so we decided to order out from Casa di Pizza, since they make turkey subs that Val really likes. I ordered my favorite, a chicken and pepperoni calzone (they are large, real good, very affordable and yeah, I know, pepperoni has red meat in it).
Walker had one of his usual barking jags when the food arrived, and I forgot to clean off the living room coffee table before I got the plates and water, so the table was pretty crowded when we started to eat.
Val could not find a space for one half of her sub while she tried to eat the other, so I put my food down and took the half-sub from her, determined to find a spot. At that point, I hit the table and my food package, and the sauce container in my calzone slid out of the carton, fell to the table, catapulted end-over-end before hitting my leg, foot and the rug on the floor.
So, I had sauce on my white, black and red Sabres shirt arm, neck, chest and stomach; my jeans had an almost foot-long, deep red sauce stain, and a decent pool of sauce had collected on my off-white heavy work socks and on my slippers. Fortunately, the sauce had depleted itself by then, and the empty container lay on the rug with just a little bit on the rug, which was easily cleaned.
Val put the Buffalo Sabres' game on DVR pause, and I cleaned up as much as I could and needed to to be able to move and eat my dinner. We watched the game and caught up on DVR, then between periods, I went upstairs, took off all of the sauce-stained clothes, and did a separate load of laundry.
Somehow, all of the sauce came out of the clothes except for some faint stains on the white part of my Sabres shirt; with the slippers being some kind of leather, I didn't launder them and don't know yet if they are salvageable.
She still taught a digital photography class and took another class at the Buffalo Arts Studio Saturday, and by the time she got home, she was tired, feeling crappy and not in the mood to go to dinner, so we decided to order out from Casa di Pizza, since they make turkey subs that Val really likes. I ordered my favorite, a chicken and pepperoni calzone (they are large, real good, very affordable and yeah, I know, pepperoni has red meat in it).
Walker had one of his usual barking jags when the food arrived, and I forgot to clean off the living room coffee table before I got the plates and water, so the table was pretty crowded when we started to eat.
Val could not find a space for one half of her sub while she tried to eat the other, so I put my food down and took the half-sub from her, determined to find a spot. At that point, I hit the table and my food package, and the sauce container in my calzone slid out of the carton, fell to the table, catapulted end-over-end before hitting my leg, foot and the rug on the floor.
So, I had sauce on my white, black and red Sabres shirt arm, neck, chest and stomach; my jeans had an almost foot-long, deep red sauce stain, and a decent pool of sauce had collected on my off-white heavy work socks and on my slippers. Fortunately, the sauce had depleted itself by then, and the empty container lay on the rug with just a little bit on the rug, which was easily cleaned.
Val put the Buffalo Sabres' game on DVR pause, and I cleaned up as much as I could and needed to to be able to move and eat my dinner. We watched the game and caught up on DVR, then between periods, I went upstairs, took off all of the sauce-stained clothes, and did a separate load of laundry.
Somehow, all of the sauce came out of the clothes except for some faint stains on the white part of my Sabres shirt; with the slippers being some kind of leather, I didn't launder them and don't know yet if they are salvageable.
posted by Kevin J. Hosey at 6:55 AM
2 Comments:
Tom has spaghetti sauce stains that won't come out of his white Bills jersey. SOunds like a nother faily trait.
OK, try another family trait.
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