Our kitchen vent/fan thing that sucks smoke up and out when I burn dinner or breakfast or cookies seems to be a shared unit with our next-door neighbors, and judging by the smell they had some delicious meat for breakfast today. And I am jealous, because I love delicious meat before 9 am! Oh man. I have to tell this story. Within the first two weeks of being in our new place after coming back from our honeymoon (in freaking Disneyworld), I cooked some bacon or maybe sausage and pancakes for dinner, and it was post-married times. If anyone knows me well at all, that person knows I like to not wear much by way of clothing if I can get away with it. So I’m at least wearing underoos, and I think jammy pants, but nothing on the top as I’m preparing to cook le meats. Because I’m dumb, I put a lil oil in the pan, a rather thin stainless steel pan, and turn on the heat. It’s electric, not gas, so I thought it’d be okay and I’ve have a bit of lag time before an oil fire, and I was right. What I was wrong about was the effect of cold, raw sausage links on a hot, oiled, stainless steel skillet. There was much sizzling and popping and other sundry delicious meat-cooking sounds, accompanied by lots of oil drops attempting to vacate the pan, which they did quite well directly onto my poor arms and hands and MY NEKKID TUMMY AND OTHER AREAS. I started cursing and saying, “ow”, of course, and Nick comes running to the kitchen and is alternately saying, “Honey, are you okay?” and telling me that this is why we don’t fry things topless. . . Because that’s so helpful. The end of the story is that I was fine, had a few spot burns, but dinner was yummy so I call it a wash.