Friday, August 11, 2006

Patience is a virtue. But complaining is more fun!

I am actually a very patient person. Stop laughing like that! I am too! It just depends on the circumstances. For example, I don't have the patience to wait for a coat of paint to dry before adding the second coat. But standing in line at a store usually is no big deal. I browse the ends of the aisle, peruse magazine covers, make conversation with those around me. My theory is, we all have to stand here. I can stand and be miserable or I can "visit", which is much more pleasant. But if the line turns out to be long because of incompetency, idiocy, or bad manners - I lose my cool more quickly. I can't make certain baked goods because they have to be started the day before, and I can't keep my interest up for two days. Numerous science experiments have started in my kitchen, when I was all gung-ho to make the starter but ran out of steam and interest when it came to make the actual product, leaving the beginnings to ferment and grow and languish. When it starts to act threatening when we walk by I toss it. But I can sit in a waiting room for hours on end, without complaining, and without feeling slighted as long as the final result is satisfactory. Today I waited three hours total to have my entire exhaust system replaced. I had the forethought to bring some knitting so it wasn't a big deal. But after that wait, I got back a Ford Escort that sounded like a race car, and shook like an old diesel truck. No matter, I just let them know that perhaps they strapped the new exhaust too tight (it has happened before on this car) and could they please just fix it. Only they CAN'T fix it again today because they are now fully booked and can I come back next week? Waiting three hours and the car not being fixed made me hotter than fish grease, I can tell you. Driving home nearly shook the fillings out of my teeth and people kept craning their necks to see what hotrod was coming up the street, and looking quite perplexed to see my half-green-half-blue dinky car where the sports car should be. All I could do was give a sheepish grin and shrug my shoulders weekly in acknowledgement. I didn't expect the car to purr like a kitten, but is it too much to ask that it not cause my vertibrae to rattle like maracas or cause small animals to hide from the din? Sigh. I got home to discover that DH had scorched my favourite (and very expensive) saute pan. Diamond coating. You can use a coat hanger to scramble eggs and it won't make a mark on it. But spray it ten ways from Sunday with cooking spray, place it on the heat, and get distracted by the TV and let's just say it was done like a dinner. I don't know that it damaged the coating (did you know that cooking spray, when overheated, turns into a rubbery coating that is almost impossible to remove?) but the handle melted and the rim is all distorted. I would have taken a picture, but some mad woman tossed it out onto the patio during a screaming fit, and it disappeared after that. Secreted away by my DH no doubt. He kind of stayed out of my way after that. Before I get angry notes, while I am demanding and impossible to live with (don't get me wrong. I know very well that I am a bitch), he knows he isn't to touch my saute pan. We have countless other skillets and pans to use. He had to climb a ladder and get this pan off the top of the cupboards. Seems the other two pans that size were dirty (grilled cheese in one and eggs in the other) and he didn't feel like washing them. And the reason he was banned from the pan, is that he managed to scorch and destroy the other two matching pieces in other sizes. This three piece set cost me almost 1000.00 dollars in the 80's when my culinary interests were running to the extreme. Do you know how long it takes a student working part time for minimum wage (paying rent and gas and insurance) to save that much money to buy freaking pans? A long time, my friends. And while I now know better, at the time spending that much money on three commercial grade pans that were almost impossible to get 'on the street' was like fulfilling a dream. I also had pro grade knives (all sold except for two or three). There was a time when I thought I was going to be a chef. Until I realized that you work 24 hours a day, make like no money, and spend all of that time sweating, burning and cutting yourself, and touching food you will never get to eat LOLOLOL. I think that is why I watch Hell's Kitchen like it is my heroin. I hate it, I need it, I have to watch it! Ahem. There is a nice little lady in my mind, and when things like this happen she is the first to say "He didn't do it on purpose. It is just a pan. Be glad nobody got hurt and it didn't start a fire". Then the other woman that resides in my mind comes forward. She is more like Elvira. She says things like "Kill him and compost him, paint his name on the pan, then shove the handle into the dirt so it can be his tombstone". I don't often follow her advice, but darn it, she is amusing to listen to! I don't often listen to the nice little lady either, but mostly end up with a mix of both. Dh doesn't get composted, but I am pretty hostile about it for a few days. If he is smart, there will be presents to follow in the next few days. He is very rarely smart. DD's daycamp let me know that they lost three post dated cheques I gave them. "You can just put a stop payment on them, and write new ones". Those stop-payments cost money! And how exactly did they lose them? There is personal information on those cheques. I know it was an accident, but I didn't feel they were treating the issue with the severity it deserved. They were so casual about it. I asked them to let the person who runs the camp know that I was not happy, and won't be issuing any new cheques until he called me. So we will see what happens Monday, because one of those would have prepaid for next week and I don't plan on writing any new cheques or paying cash. I wonder if maybe they won't accept her. We will see. We have a busy week-end, but busy in a fun way. Crafts tomorrow morning, a campfire tomorrow night (hot dogs and smores). More family fun Sunday, and for part of it I get to sneak home and have a nap. I love Sundays with naps. Don't you?

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