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This evening, I was heating soup and putting previously-washed dishes away while insisting that a certain clown (who shall remain nameless) sit and rest after an emergency root-canal procedure he had today. Or so he said.
Putting away my one normal, non-copper saucepan in its place on the sea of copper that is our shelves, I noticed it didn't nest into its spot as easily as usual. It fits inside two other pots, stacked one inside the other, but something was in the way... Didn't give it much thought.
"X the Clown," let's call him to protect his identity, had started heating our soups -- a meat-ridden one for him, a vegetarian one for me -- and had assigned them two separate copper-safe spoons. I took over the work for the poor root-canal-smitten thing, served him his soup, started making him a soft omelet, all in consideration of the misery he'd had all afternoon, dealing with dentists and prescriptions, etc.
But soon, another look came over his face... "I have a confession to make," he said between spoonfuls, staring into his disappointingly not-mom's Italian wedding soup... Before I could start guessing, he got to the point: "Copper."
Oh no, not that!
"Four."
::GASP::
"Two of them are right there." I'd been stirring soup in them! (Didn't we already have two that size?)
"Two more in there." He pointed toward my one normal, no-special-spoons-required pan. Sure enough, beneath it were the other two obnoxious little newcomers obstructing its seat. One sported a cute spout for pouring -- something we could definitely use every six years. The other, a precious little miniature, would be perfect if we ever wanted to heat up cat food.
Needless to say, this involved a thorough intervention, retracing his steps of the afternoon. "So you were thoroughly ill, and how did you happen upon these?"
"The prescription was trrlgg...," he muttered into his meatballs.
"The prescription was what?"
"Taking too long, so I wntsmwhrls..."
"It was taking too long so you went somewhere else?"
"Mmf."
"Kohls?"
"Mmmr."
"Marshall's?
"Mrr."
"Ross?"
"Mrmr.
"Home Goods?"
"Hm?"
"Home Goods. You went to Home Goods."
Suddenly "X the Clown" turned silent, as if he couldn't hear me, as if the canned soup suddenly became so overwhelmingly good it consumed all his senses.
"You knew, when you decided to go there, that copper was a possibility... You might have denied that to yourself, wanting to believe it was just a benign trip to peruse the tongs and towels, but on some level, you knew. Admit it."
He played stupid.
Later, as I was doing the dishes, he finally spoke up: "I'll wash those."
Oh, of course you will.... It's all so tragically transparent. :eyes:
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