OH FOR THE LOVE OF SANITY!!
It was a simple enough task; spoon a portion of leftover Hungarian Cholent into a bowl, heat said bowl in the microwave, eat heated Cholent, and relax.
Well, apparently not - not when you are as timid as a mouse as I appear to be!
Stages 1 and 2 (being the spooning out of and the heating of a portion of leftover Cholent) were completed without a hitch. It was stage 3 where my nervous brain and over sensitive ears conspired against me.
I open the microwave, and started to take the bowl of deliciously heated Hungarian stew out. At some point the bowl chinked against the side of the microwave, and that is where the fun began.
For some reason, my ears interpreted that "chink" as a "pop". A millionth of a second later the electric impulses from my ear raced into my brain screaming "IT'S GONNA EXPLODE! THE MICROWAVE IS GOING TO BLOW UP, CAUSING A SMALL NUCLEAR EXPLOSION WHICH WILL VAPORISE ME INSTANTLY. ALL THAT WILL BE LEFT OF ME WILL BE A PILE OF ASH WITH GLASSES ON TOP!"
Upon hearing this, my brain replied " It's ok, I know what to do - I'll make me step back suddenly and jerkily". And that is what I did - suddenly moved backwards, forgetting that I only had one hand gripping the bowl.
At that moment, my hand was wrenched from the bowl. For a split second it hovered in mid air, before starting to fall to earth. With a groan, I lurched forwards, with arms outstretched. My left wrist caught the bottom of the bowl, sending it spinning to the right. Like a Casserole Catherine Wheel, meat, sauce and vegetables sprayed out in a spiral as the bowl spun downwards. I stood there frozen, as I waited for the bowl to smash on the floor.
In truth, it would have been better if it had.
The bowl somehow managed to reach the ground perfectly level, therefore spreading the impact equally and not breaking. A millisecond later the energy displaced into the floor by the bowl came back to it as it bounced upwards. The remaining contents of the bowl (of which there was plenty, surprisingly) now hurled itself from the bowl like projectile vomit, and arced up the wall, across the door frame and through the open doorway into the lounge, landing with an audible squelch across my 4-plug extension cable.
For a moment, everything was quiet - except for the dripping of sauce from several worktops and fittings. Then, in a very loud voice, I demonstrated my full repatoir of rude words, and continued to do so for a good minute or so. Once that was out of my system, I set about clearing up.
I did get it all done, though I hate nothing more than pulling beans out of the sockets on an extension cable. And I fear I will have to wash a corner of my lounge carpet, or else it might start to smell.
The funny thing is, that I'd already eaten tea at a friends house tonight before I got home.