But only for severe situations.
My colleague asked today if my mom ever swears. I said that she sure does, but only in the most dire of circumstances. She jinxed us!
I wasn’t home from work for more than 15 minutes, and I hear my mom making not-so-fun noises in the kitchen. When I got there, she was saying the S word meaning doo doo and barely hanging on to a pan of bubbling hot lasagna. It was a frozen lasagna that she’d baked.
It first slid off of the cookie sheet she baked the pan on. So she moved the cookie sheet and picked up the pan of lasagna wearing two kitchen hot pads that are really giant mittens with near zero flexibility to move your fingers around the edges of anything. Then, we both watched in horror as the thing slipped (seemingly slowly, but actually with some serious zip) down onto the door, the crack between the door and the oven, and into the oven.
(I use “pan” loosely: it’s really a cardboard container that no longer holds its shape or contents once hot. We may never buy one of those again. We’re not much for cooking, and cleaning up is for the cleaning fairies that don’t ever visit our home.)
Oh, so not pretty. But I now wish I’d taken before and after photos. It took an hour or so to clean it, after waiting for the oven to cool down, but we managed to get it ALL cleaned up. And the oven now looks better than before it ever met that nasty lasagna.
Please, let’s not talk about when my mom swears again. Please.