You know those occasions where damn or blast just don't seem right?
When even Bloody Hell isn't strong enough?
I had one of those last Saturday evening.
I'd found a can of apricot halves in the back of the pantry when sorting the contents and thought I'd have some with icecream for dessert.
I'd served a portion into my bowl and had emptied the rest of the can into a plastic container with screw top lid ready to go into the fridge.
I hadn't yet screwed the lid on and as I lifted the empty can towards the sink for rinsing out, I nudged the now full container of apricot halves and syrup.
I reached to stop it from spilling but it was too quick.
Apricots and syrup all over the hotplates and bench.
Well, damn just wasn't going to work.
It was definitely time for the stronger word.
Which I used, rather loudly.
I mopped, rinsed the sponge, mopped some more, rinsed the sponge again, rinse and repeat, until the hotplates were clean.
Then I washed them down again with hot soapy water when I did the dishes later.
Luckily, the hotplates are sealed to the surface, so there was no drip through to clean up.
Hurrying the Harvest
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