I once worked at a place where microwaving popcorn was a firing offense. They took that seriously.
That is weird.
Say, you weren’t attacked by a swarm of very small, hard to see flying somethings when you moved it were you? Maybe it looked so well preserved because it was, by the civilization that arose inside it during that time.
I’ve had a good few that may come to mind later, this one was Mrs. Bays.
After a harrowed drive to my parent’s trailer, Mrs. Bays decided to start whipping up whisky sours in the magic bullet. She placed the jug on the counter, added all the ingredients in, and picked up the jug. The jug had no bottom.
I swear to the gods I do not believe in, it was like a cartoon. Surface tension held the column of liquid for a split second, before imbibing half the kitchen.
That was a good laugh!
My gf took some meat out of the freezer section of our basement “beer fridge” and put the package on top of the unit while she did something else. She promptly forgot about it.
Weeks later I was sure there was a dead mouse in the basement. I searched every corner and crevice but couldn’t find the source of the odor.
The stink got worse each day. Must be a dead raccoon, I thought. I pulled the dryer away from the wall, disconnected the exhaust. I looked everywhere except for on top of the refrigerator.
Then one day I found it. I will stop the story there.
A long long time ago, in a State far far away from where I live now, when I was married to baby-mama #1, she decided to take up sour dough bread making. As many of you know if you took up a similar project during our recent Covid adventures, in order to make sour dough bread, you need a starter that you must feed and maintain. My ex got a mason jar and created her starter. The care and feeding went on for several days in our kitchen.
One night while we were sleeping, I am awoke by sounds coming from somewhere else in the house. A hissing chittering sound. My first reaction was a rat or racoon that had found its way into the house we were renting at that time. I woke her and asked if she know what the sound was, to no avail, I was urged out of the bed to go and make the discovery on my own. With an axe handle in my hands, I made my way out of the bedroom, and could then tell that the noise was coming from the kitchen. I flipped the light on but found no wild animals scurrying about.
What I did find was the mason jar of starter sitting on our gas range top on top of where the pilot light is lit, thus providing heat to the starter, which is bubbling and spitting through the seal of the mason jar lid. I picked up the jar and just as I got to the sink, it exploded!
Never forget where your pilot light is on your gas range.
Earlier this year, we got some (prepared) pizzas from Walmart and while unloading the mini-van put said pies on top of the washing machine. And there they stayed. For three days. How many times did we walk past them on the way to the garage or back into the house? Many times. How many times did I comment on the pizza smell? Many times. How many times have I kicked myself for not seeing them there on the washing machine and having to throw them out? Many times. How is it possible to not see something that is literally four feet from your face?
Do you think they’d still be there if we hadn’t needed to do laundry?
this was me twice but i cleaned the oven each time… the last time was when we made homemade fries we kept the oil so we could make more … and stored it in the oven,
the fryer itself was fine but the cord to it was goo…
I haven’t, but I don’t use the oven much. I think the last time was for meatloaf, and there was something wrong with the meat because two bites of it had me puking my guts out. I haven’t made meatloaf since, and I am almost sad about that because I do rather like it.
@Beckdawrek, microfiber is recycled plastic. That’s why it melted and smelled so bad. I don’t buy microfiber anymore because the fibers are getting into the food supply.