I had a kitchen disaster, this one more daunting than any I can remember.

My elbow (that pesky elbow) tipped over a bottle of olive oil and it broke on the tile. (Jay used to always admonish that I left things too close to the edge.) Ed called out and I told him what had happened. And he said “Was there olive oil in it?” I got a little testy at that point since if it had been an empty bottle, there wouldn’t have been an hour of clean-up involved. I thought maybe God was punishing me for recent indiscretions.

I stared at this mess for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to clean it up without getting oil on everything else. I was also thinking that unless I did a herculean job of clean-up,the palmetto bugs would be living off the residue for the rest of their annoying little lives. The only cloths I could find in the garage were uncut sheets, so I cut up an old white sort-of-linen tablecloth. I wrapped, at first, Swiffer dry cloths around the broom because who wants olive oil in one’s broom? I taped them but that didn’t work and I was rewarded with an olive-oil soaked broom and I stuck it in a Pine Sol and water solution in a bucket in the garage. I’ll rescue it tomorrow.

I kneeled on the floor and used the cloths to wipe up the olive oil and then I poured white vinegar on it because there was (of course) still oil slick. And there was olive oil on the nearby cabinet doors and on the dishwasher door and under the ends of the cabinets and I can tell you that, actually, olive oil is great for dislodging unseen cat hair. Then I went over the floor with the Swiffer wetjet and then I cleaned the cabinets with 409 cleaner. I know I will be picking up glass shards for some months to come because that always happens.

My olive oil reserve is in a gallon jug so I had to find a small bottle to use and the only bottles left in my little cache were jam jars. So I used one of those. I’ll have to buy a small bottle at the super market in order to have a new bottle to use. And, finally, I had to change my socks that I use as slippers, or get oil on everything I walked on. @#$%$\

While I was doing all this, dinner was a languishing but Ed was understanding that we would eat a bit later and, after all, he had offered to help but this is a one-person job. So he was reading in bed.

I got to the dinner, finally. Before all this happened, I had been sautéing minced onions and they were burned (not the result of the accident – just bad timing). They were so very burned that I couldn’t trick Ed into eating them (I don’t mind burned food). I threw them out, and was annoyed that my little wet-trash caddy was soiled because the supermarket bag I line it with leaked. So I had to wash that out and re-line it and double bag the trash I was throwing out.

In New York City, super market customers would riot if you gave them bags that developed holes right way. They are lugging those bags by hand down city streets to their apartments. But down here in the car culture, the markets buy flimsy bags to save money and you are, anyway, just going to your car and they’ll last that long.

I got more onions from the garage refrigerator, retrieved the mincer parts from the dishwasher and minced more onions. And pan fried some canned mushrooms and finally got the tilapia started while I did a salad.

I was surprised that I did everything “right” after that and that dinner was fine. And I had two fignewtons for dessert. Life is good. But I gotta watch my elbow.

xx, Teal