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| Eric |
Last week Mrs. Grumpy bought a big jar of honey.
Yesterday morning we discovered one of the kids had put it in the freezer for no clear reason (and of course, no one admitted to it).
It had crystallized, so wouldn't go back to being a liquid easily. Since she didn't want to toss the whole thing, she scooped it into a pot and set it on the stove to liquify.
Then she got distracted with fighting kids, and forgot about it. So it boiled and went all over the stove and gave off a shitload of smoke. Which set off the smoke detectors, and then the fire alarm.
While the kids panicked like it was the apocalypse, I turned off the alarm, and she began cleaning the stove. The kitchen was filled with the sickeningly sweet smell of burning honey, so I sent the tribe to open the doors and windows and turn on ceiling fans.
Then suddenly the twins began screaming and running down the hall as, attracted by the smell, a bunch of bees came flying in. So I began killing them, and sent Frank to go close the doors.
He ran to get the front door, then yelled for me to come there. So I went up front and watched as a fire truck pulled into our driveway. Our alarm company had called them without even dialing the house to check.
I apologized to the guys, and explained what happened. I told them to ignore the twins, who by now had locked themselves in a bedroom and stuffed towels under the door to keep bees out, and were yelling out the window for the firemen to come help kill the bees. They laughed and drove off.
It took about 30 minutes to get rid of all the bees inside, but the smell was so strong we had to leave the windows open the rest of the day, during which time a bunch of them hovered menacingly outside the screens.
How was your weekend?
