The house to myself, the flatmates away. A party last night (pictures to follow, I promise…) and a long drive home, recognising that I have to be at work tonight and sleeping in my own bed, rather than on someone else's couch would be a grown up way of approaching things.
Up, a quick shout through “Anyone else in the house?”, just in case. You never can tell in this flat, a brace of grandparents have keys, not to mention the cleaner. On hearing silence, I take full advantage to stroll through in my pants and set the coffee brewing. On the way I have a thought and the thought is “Ooh…pancakes.”
God bless Google for recipes, everything is in the cupboards. It's American fluffy pancakes and bacon for this boy this morning.
Shower, shave, kitchen. Sieving, mixing, bacon onto grill.
The smoke alarm in our kitchen is a helpful friend, it sort of predicts when things might catch fire, rather than reporting when they have.
“Beepbeepbeep you've put some toast on. It's cooked perfectly…if you left it under there for another five minutes, like a crazy person, then it might burn the house down, just thought you should know…beepbeepbeep.”
Thankfully it has a little green button you can press to silence it.
So…butter on to melt to cook my pancakes.
Pancakes in to cook.
While I'm waiting, lets empty the dishwasher and stay ahead of the game.
Glasses, mugs, plates, cutlery, a little pile of Louis' plastic bowls that never *quite* dry. They go into the cupboard above the sink and
“Jesus suffering fuck!”
A deluge of sippy cups, Tupperware and little bitty cutlery pours out of the cupboard at head height. I think they've been leaning against the door, just waiting for me to open it up and attack me.
Forks are bouncing everywhere, a pyrex jug bounces off my foot, plastic bowls vanish into the bowels of the dishwasher.
“Beepbeepbeep…your bacon is less raw than it was.”
This is the other entertaining thing about our smoke alarm. It requires more presses of the green button the more frequently it goes off. It's as though its saying “No, really…SOMETHING must be on fire…really….”
Flip the pancakes.
Flip the bacon.
Finish emptying the dishwasher.
Grab the tea towel, helicopter it madly around your head.
I don't know how long it'll beep before it triggers the whole building's alarm….
Shit…my pancake's on fire.
Well played, old friend.