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Monday, February 11, 2013

Iv'e got the blues

I meant to post this last week--- (it was in my drafts and just too funny not to share!)

It seems all week I have been in a funk.  I guess it started Saturday when my run didn't go as great as I had hoped, I fell down, and I had to wait far too long for my cheeseburger (im so impatient).   It ran into Sunday when I blew off my ski trip because of my sore knee after wiping out during my run and spent the day cleaning and playing with the pup instead of skiing.

I am usually pretty optimistic but this week has been a "glass half empty" kind of week.  I decided Tuesday night that I would cheer up with a shopping trip to the grocery store for ingredients for a home made pizza.  By the time I went shopping and got home I was very very hangry.

I was grumpy and rushing, and didn't fully heat up the pizza stones before I put the dough on them.  Huge mistake.  Usually, my pizzas take about 10-12 minutes on 500 to become crispy bubbly and delicious.

After 25 minutes, the pizzas on my stone were gooey and the dough was still raw and soft.  Impatient Katie decided to take the pizzas off the stones and "slip" them on the rack to finish cooking and crisp up on the direct heat.  Instead of gracefully sliding on and finishing, cornmeal went EVERYWHERE, including the bottom of the oven, causing a smokey nasty mess in my poor kitchen.  

To make matters worse, instead of crisping up, my pizzas just fell through the oven grates.  

This isn't my exact pizza.. but its pretty darn close.. I was far to hangry to snap a picture.  

Sloppy doughy saucey cheesy mess to clean up and a dinnerless hangrier Katie.  I acted like a child, pouted, nearly cried, and even proceeded to beat my pizza with a spatula.

Yes you read that right... I started beating my disformed pizza in the oven.  Its not a high point for me but it happened and it actually made me feel better.

  Sadly, I took said  beating stick spatula and moved the contents of my dinner from the bottom of the oven onto a pan where I let my slop cook for a little bit.  I had spent the money, rolled out the dough, and made a gigantic mess... I was going to eat this damn pizza even if it required a spoon (and it did). 

Once I finished my dinner, I decided to cut my losses, pour a drink, and take a hot shower and go to bed early.  I had run 5 miles on the treadmill and rode a few horses so I was starting to smell worse than the gym locker room.  I turned on the shower and stepped into the arctic water pouring down on me....

What the hell is going on?  I pay good money for oil to heat up that damn water tank to provide me with this hot shower I deserve.  I put on my robe while my chattering teeth reminded me how miserable this day was.  I got to the basement and saw that the water heater decided it was taking the day off.  

60 degrees?  This is bull shit water heater... your one job... ONE JOB is to give me hot water... and all you can give me is 65 degrees?  At this point there were actually tears flowing.  I felt like the whole world was against me (well.. maybe just the oven and the water heater).  I think my room mate felt bad for me because she went to the dungeon/basement and started pressing buttons and flipping switches.  Miraculously, the water heater came back to life, and nothing blew up in the mean time.

Just one of those days.....

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