I did the same exact thing last year, except it wasn’t basement stairs (I live in a split-level apartment), I had no laundry, and I broke both of my feet.
I boiled the electric kettle dry.
At least I caught the smell of burning plastic and unplugged it before a fire could start.
Can I interject my wife’s latest brilliance into the thread?
She just ruined her cell phone by running it through the washing machine. Third one she’s ruined by immersion, second time by that method.
She also left her credit card at a restaurant on the same day.
Mrs Gargoyle had a great one last week. Otherwise a brilliant cook, instead of 2 tbsp of sugar in her patented amazing mouth-watering sun-dried tomato pasta sauce, she brain-farted and put in 2 cups.
“Um…honey…did you do something different with this?” 
Miss Woodhouse, you’re lucky a neighbor was at home to let you use the phone. That must have been terrifying…One thing I learned from the get-go, living out here - never never never step out of the house or the car without the whereabouts of your keys accounted for. I’ve locked myself out of both.
Third immersion was the toilet, wasn’t it?
Maybe she swallowed it.
If I ever move back to a city–or even into town–it’s going to take some serious adjusting. Out where I live, I don’t know anyone who locks their houses, and it would be hard to remember to lock up whenever I leave and take the keys if I’m going somewhere within walking distance. I’m sure I’d lock myself out multiple times before I remembered.
My first: I have a thin futon on top of my mattress, which sometimes slides slightly off-center, so it hangs over. I recently saw this, and tried to push it back by using my leg as a lever - keeping my foot planted, and pushing with my shin. Unfortunately, I recently acquired a bed frame, and scraped an inch or so of skin off my shin.
Second, I was making a torte, and discovered that our baking powder had gone missing when we moved. My girlfriend offered to go pick some up (I live maybe 20 yards from the grocery store, fortunately), so I could get started, at least. It wasn’t until the whole thing was assembled - with prune plums arranged on top no less - and in the oven that I realized that the unopened container of baking powder was sitting on the counter. Luckily, it hadn’t been in for more than a few minutes, so all was well in the end, but there was much profanity nonetheless.
Some years ago I used to go out to my car at lunch, put the key in the ignition so I could listen to some music, and then get in the back seat and read a book or whatever to while away the time.
After I got out of the back seat and shut the door, locking myself out, twice, I stopped doing this.
In which case it would end up in the toilet eventually, right? Always happens that way.
When I was still in high school, there were a few times I’d either forget my house key or simply leave it behind, secure in the knowledge that I’d come home with my sister, who always had her key. It sucked when she’d stay at school for an extra hour, because I’d be locked out. Every single time the weather sucked.
I quickly developed a habit in which my keys went into my left front pocket. Always. And every few minutes I feel to make sure they’re still there. 30 years later, I’m still in that habit. And I have never locked myself out of my home.
Car, many times. Home, never.
Slicing up vegetables to go into my vegetable barley soup, I thought absently to myself as I chopped and peeled broccoli stalks, “Wouldn’t it be silly if I were to chuck the skins in there and throw out the peeled stalks?”
Guess what I saw when I peered over the edge of the pot a minute or two later. :smack:
That’s the best when you tell yourself ahead of time not to do it.
Last Christmas I was making toffee. I’ve made it for years. As the butter and sugar were boiling, it occurred to me how bad it would be if I got some of the boiling stickiness on me.
To be on the safe side, when I took the pot off the stove, I steadied the base of it with my forearm. I hope the scar fades eventually. It’s really ugly, and people ask about it. Maybe I just need a better story.
That reminds me of the time when I made a huge pot of chicken stock. I spent an entire Saturday at it. It was maybe 8 or 10 hor simmering on the stove, and me tending it every half hour or so. Then it was time to strain out the solids…
I’ll take an expert’s word for it.
We had an accident-prone set guest designer in our theatre a few years back. On his way to the theatre, he hit a curb too fast and flew over his handlebars, scraping up his face.
Once he got to work, he headed straight for the kitchen to make tea. Trouble was, he wanted honey and the honey we had was old and crystallized. So he put it in the microwave for a couple minutes. It superheated, the same way microwaved water will, and when he picked it up, it exploded up into his face.
He described the experience as like putting hot-melt glue directly into an open wound. Which is pretty much what happened, actually.
I almost never lock my doors. Which means that on those rare occasions that I do I must be very very careful, lest I lock myself out. Which I nearly did the other day. Luckily for me, I keep a spare in my wallet.
I was dropping off some books at the library and pulled up in front of a sign that said “No Parking or Stopping.” I figured what the hell, I’m only stopping to throw some books in the book drop. So I leave the car running and exit the car, but I accidentally hit the automatic lock button before I close the door. OOPS. Not only am I locked out of my running car, but I’m parked illegally.
My husband wasn’t home so unfortuntely the only place to turn was the police station just down the block. A cop jimmied my car door open, but not before pointing out my illegal parking situation. I sheepishly apologized and thankfully he didn’t give me a ticket. I learned my lesson though: when parking illegally, NEVER leave your keys in the ignition. 
My wife is a good cook, but she has the bad habit of always turning the burner on high, supposedly so the pan will heat up more quickly. Most of my pans are either non-stick or very heavy cast, so high heat is generally a BAD THING to use with them. Unfortunately, she also gets distracted from the task at hand fairly easily. The combination is a disaster waiting to happen, and we’ve had a couple of grease fires and near catastrophes.
We used to have one of those Italian stovetop espresso makers: you know, similar to this one. She put it on the stove to percolate (on high: what a surprise!) and walked away from it, despite my repeated warnings NOT to leave cooking unattended :mad: .
I’m up in the loft watching TV when my very sensitive smellometer goes off, just before the smoke alarm does. I race downstairs and the goddamned thing is actually on fire. The aluminum is burning and melting onto the stove burner and black smoke is pouring out of the kitchen. I got it turned off of course, and had to replace the burner and drip pan. Standing orders in our house now is that she tells me whenever she is planning to cook something.