If you have had a perfectly lovely morning and are fixing your oatmeal-and-yogurt breakfast when you remember that it's trash day and the left-over oil from the once-per-decade chicken frying is still sitting on the kitchen counter in a recycling jar that didn't have its original lid but which is topped by a somewhat loose-fitting lid and some Saran wrap, and you realize that you could just carefully place that jar in the garbage can and voila! no more quandary of how to dispose of the oil, because it's been used for frying chicken and you don't plan to do that again until 2022, and you may think you can carefully lift that jar by the edges of lid so that you don't get chicken-greasy oil on your fingers and not spill the entire quart of oil across your kitchen countertop, under the television set and food scales, around the crocks full of utensils, and over a pile of clean dishtowels?
Don't do it.
:) And Proust would be so proud of that sentence!
ReplyDeletePillows, have you seen the poster in my office? The longest sentence in literature, diagrammed. And it's by Proust!
ReplyDeleteNo, I've just read the sentence! But diagrammed . . . impressive! :)
ReplyDelete