Yesterday afternoon I ran out of oxygen. I knew I was going to and had been stressing over this eventuality for some time. So it finally happened--mid-bead as is to be expected. I was going to put off replacing my bottle until today, but I will have a fairly nice block of time to torch in this afternoon and didn't want to waste it unnecessarily. So I asked my middle son if he would be willing to take me and my bottle to the store. He was most agreeable and I have a nice full tank of oxygen waiting for me to hook up this afternoon.
Well, my unscheduled gallivanting left me a little behind. I have supper fairly well in hand when Kent texted me to say he was on his way home.
He got home and immediately went to work on his lunch for today. He leaves so early for work right now that things like lunches need to be done the night before. So he's in the kitchen fixing chicken for his sandwich. I am cleaning up, loading the dishwasher, and occasionally stirring my pot, so it won't burn.
Kent lays down a fork beside the sink. I pick up said fork, rinse it off, and put it in the dishwasher. Along with other miscellaneous dirty dishes...
Pretty soon--"Where's my fork?" asked Kent. "You put my fork in the dishwasher," said rather accusingly.
"No, I didn't. I didn't see your fork. I didn't take your fork," in spite of the fact that I pretty obviously had.
Pointing to the bare counter. "Do you see a fork? No, there is no fork there. You took my fork and put it in the dishwasher."
Meanwhile, our oldest child is sitting at the dining room table laughing hysterically. "This is so funny!" she announces when she is able to speak again. Her own private sit-com...