Ow, ow, and uhhh... ow.

Today I got my hand stuck in between a cookie sheet filled with hot oil and an oven rack that had been sitting in 375 degree heat for 20 minutes. It was pleasant. I calmly, and of course politely, asked Paul if he would place the pan back in the oven for me so I could go and give my fingers a nice cold bath in the sink.

After being lucky enough to enjoy the gentle tingle that can accompany burns for about 20 minutes, I decided I would give in to my selfish needs and go get some burn ointment. I flashed up to Walgreens, leaving Paul, a crying baby, and a burning dinner behind in my wake. I promise you, it could not wait. I was tempted to actually rip open the box in the store because the lady that was in front of me in line thought that it would be best to talk to the cashier for ten minutes before swiping her card. I would have swiped my card for her just to get her moving but she seemed to be stocking up on absolutely anything a human could ever want... ever. I didn't think I could justify that expense to Paul when I got home. But I eventually made it through the line and back home, got the ointment on, and now I am left with one big shiny blistery finger with only remnants of pain here and there (it looks way more impressive in person, I assure you).

I had forgotten how badly burns hurt, it had been so long since I've had one. For being so little, they sure pack a punch.

Other than that exciting adventure, today has been good. My cold is progressing to the 'cough' stage, so it's more annoying than debilitating at this point. What I would give for some Nyquil.

Paul and I got some shopping done. New garbage can with a lid on it, because I MAY or MAY HAVE NOT found Alex pulling all of the trash out of the bin the other day. MAY or MAY HAVE NOT. And we got a bin WITH A LID for our recycling, because a plastic bag hanging on the handle of our pantry door is just not cutting it anymore. We also made a stop at the grocery store because Paul wanted to pick up some pumpkin beer he spotted the other day. We were in a store we don't normally shop at, so we were both a bit lost (this was the more expensive, uppity grocery store of the two in our vacinity... that is, if a grocery store can be uppity). At one point, we were in the back taking our time walking around, Alex in her carseat in the shopping cart, and Paul grabbed my arm and said in a very loud, demanding voice, "Go down the BEER AISLE!!" Several people stopped to stare, and I am pretty sure that I heard at least one audible gasp. As we were walking away (down the beer aisle), I told Paul that he should have followed up with a "wench" and we probably could have gotten kicked out... which would have been awesome.