I shouldn’t be allowed out of my room unsupervised.
Yesterday I felt under the weather and a little grumpy, so I went home fully intending to watch crime watch (which cheers me up*) and go to bed early. I stopped by the supermarket to get me some cold and flu medicine, and aimlessly wandered about, trying to navigate the maze of old people and their trollies, and buy something worthwhile.
You could tell I felt ill. I normally come out with at least one vegetable and some cheese related produce, but I bought only loo rolls, some new pillow cases, pesto, cosmo and some mini chicken kievs. I obviously wasn’t planning a culinary master class, so cooked the mini chicken kievs and put some chips on. that’s what I love about being single. If I want to eat guacamole with peppers for five nights on the trot for dinner, I can without someone saying “really? For the FIFTH NIGHT?” judge lest ye be judged and all that. On a similar note, if I want to eat cream cheese off a hula hoop, or dip Pringles in cream cheese, I can. As much as I want. Without talk of soup or a carrot, or “what are you having that’s actually in a food group?” cheese, hello?!
Anyway, so I cooked the little kievs and got distracted by taking all the lovely clean and dry washing out of the tumble dryer (whoever invented those things. I love you. My clothes always smell of magic and not of mould like they do in winter when you live in a flat and have no tumble dryer or outside space. all clothes get hung from curtain rails and dryers, and you smell like you fell in a pond). When I went back to them all the garlicky buttery goodness had oozed out, so defeated I put them on a plate. On went the TV (another rare thing) and I bit into one, a little distracted.
The next think I knew I was dancing round the room screaming “bastard!!!” at no one in particular, although the rabbit looked particularly affronted. This was a rogue mini kiev; still full of its burning filling, and it had gone off like a grenade. Wanting some sympathy, as my sympathetic housemates were out at the time, I text my mother and sister, and the responses were both the same.
“Were you eating dinner naked?!”
The long and short of it is that I now have a blister the size of a fifty pence right on my boob (that’s what you get for wearing a v neck top and eating without protection) and a blister on my chin. Which REALLY hurts and I keep knocking (putting makeup on this morning, fun times!). Note to self. Eat only salad. It cannot harm you.
*I love crime watch. It cheers me up because although it’s all doom and gloom, murderers and rapists and unsolved mysteries, I like it when they catch the killers and scumbags. I get an elevated sense of faith in the general public, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Yep, some psycho may have robbed someone’s nan for their pension money, but Kirsty and the team bang them up and sort them out. Much better!