I CAN'T Make This Stuff Up

Since he got his walking boot for his broken ankle, The Pony has been clomping around the Mansion like a graceless Clydesdale. I can hear him making his way from bedroom to bathroom to kitchen to recliner to big triangle tub in the master bathroom. Every now and then, there's a heart-stopping THUMP! I am concerned that The Pony may have fallen, and hurt his ankle, and thus prolonged his return to work!

Turns out The Pony is just clumsy. We've know this since before he could walk. His round head was like a magnet for corners. He turned a tall potted plant/tree over on himself, and lay trapped until we found him. Flipped his little yellow plastic banana car over while riding it on the wooden platform beside the playhouse thingy my mom and dad gave the boys.

"Oh no, Mom. I wasn't hurt. I just hit my boot on the piano as I was leaving my room. It really reverberates! No. That time, I hit it on the side of the bathtub, and almost knocked loose one of those panels dad built in, to get to the pipes. Oh. THAT one was when I hit the stool at the cutting block. This boot just sticks out farther than my toes. I'm not used to it."

"Huh. You've only been wearing it THREE WEEKS now..."

Anyhoo... on Sunday night, The Pony came to the kitchen to assist with supper. It was Spaghetti Night. That's a thing around here now. Remember when Farmer H bought 24 BOXES of spaghetti noodles? And said we'd keep four, and he'd give away the rest? We still have them. I decreed that every week, Farmer H and The Pony will have a Spaghetti Night. TWO! They're okay with that. They like spaghetti. 

Anyhoo... The Pony usually makes garlic bread, but he was afraid he'd use up all the minced garlic. So they had frozen garlic toast. He did add to the canned sauce. And stirred. And handed me things like the silver metal dipper thingy with teeth and holes in it. Neither of us knew the correct name.

When it was time to drain the noodles, I asked The Pony to carry the big pan the two steps (for him) from stove to sink. The colander for draining was already down in the sink.

"It's kind of heavy for me. But if it feels like TOO MUCH for you, don't do it! I'll do it myself. I sure wouldn't want you to stumble and scald your GOOD leg."

"I'm pretty sure I can get it." CLUMP. CLUMP.

The Pony set the pan on the edge of the sink, and tilted it to pour out the water. 

"Huh. That's the least cloud of steam I've seen when pouring out the pasta water. My glasses are still steamed up, though. Just a minute. Gotta let them clear. Okay. More water out. I WILL have to stop again, to adjust my hands on the handles, for turning it over and letting the noodles out."

I was standing off to the side. By the wastebasket in the area under the counter where my DISHWASHER would be. If I had one. I watched as The Pony tilted the pan and let the noodles slide out into the colander. AND TIP THE COLANDER OVER, WITH SPAGHETTI NOODLES DRAPED ON THE EDGE AND INTO THE SINK!

"I can't believe you! Move! I'll get it!"

The Pony was still holding the hot pan as I found that silver metal dipper thingy with teeth and holes in it, and scooped the noodles back into the colander.

It seems like The Pony is always only a few seconds away from disaster...