That was Saturday. Ye Gods. A day chock-a-block with small errors, disappointments, misjudgments, and indiscretions that, individually, were beneath notice. And yet they joined together into a parade of horribles that seemed to grow like an inverse pyramid: each new incident carrying extra weight by virtue of all that preceded it.
(1) I spent way too long in the line at the itty bitty gourmet deli, behind a family of around 20 people all of whom had insane dietary restrictions that made everything the deli actually sold completely unsuitable, and so they had to put in special orders. Which they changed frequently. There is only one person at the deli: she has to take the orders, make the sandwiches, etc. So all that took a while. I waited because the soup of the day was Curried Pea, which I had tried a couple of weeks before and loved. After the wait, I lovingly ferried home my soup, only to find it had been over-curried, and under-yogurted.
(2) I was baffled at the grocery store by the fact that I needed two spaghetti squash, didn't really know what spaghetti squash looked like, and of the two squashes in the grocery store that could be spaghetti squash, only one was labeled as such, and the other didn't look much like the first one.
(3) In my glee at repotting and caging my two tomatoes, I accidentally removed the top foot of my largest plant. Which was only about two feet high. And had four flowers on it. Arghhh!
(4) My popsicle recipe was written in such a way as to drastically understate the amount of blueberries needed, while drastically overstating the amount of lemon juice. Also, the can of grape juice concentrate exploded.
(4) Dinner took far longer to make than anticipated, as the two squash (both of which turned out to be spaghetti squashes) cooked at alarmingly different rates.
(5) I made fried green tomatoes as a side dish. First, I poured oil into a deep pan, slapped a candy thermometer in it, and turned on the burner. After about five minutes or so, I began to wonder why the candy thermometer was not registering any increase in temperature. Then I realized the burner had never lit. I was just flooding the whole house with gas. When I tried to turn the burner off, it caught, creating a basketball-sized flame cloud. Aieee!
(6) Then I got the oil heated, and started frying. I don't do much deep frying: it freaks me out. Boiling oil! After the flame-cloud incident, I spent the whole time worrying that I would somehow upset the pan and end up looking like the Phantom of the Opera. Instead, I just filled the entire house with smoke, leading Jeff to run about opening windows and doors, in an effort to keep the smoke alarm from going off.
After all that, I kind of wanted to die. Luckily, dinner turned out fine, I did not burn myself, the smoke alarm remained silent, and the decapitated tomato plant is doing pretty well. Also, I figure that I must have worked off all karmic negativity associated with my person for at least the next six months. Whew!