Tag Archives: Broth

Good Things Happen on the Kitchen Floor.

Don’t try to clean the kitchen when you are too tired.  It only leads to immeasurable silliness.

One time my roommate Emilie and I had made baked potatoes for dinner. This was the day after she had declared that potatoes were pretty much the least sexy food ever. And they are. But they’re still great. (When I wrote that they weren’t sexy on Facebook, some concerned potato lovers responded, letting us know that they felt we were being unfair to the very filling, versatile, and delicious potato.)

Even though we had eaten potatoes for dinner, we had also decided to make soup to keep around for the rest of the week. (Recipe: every kind of bean you can imagine, chicken, chicken broth, tomato juice.)

I decided to put the soup away. But what bowl would we put it in? I elected to use our large pitcher that I had recently purchased for lemonade.

The pitcher worked fine, but I was far too out of it to worry about getting it all safely into the pitcher. As it sloshed all over the counter, most of it made it into the pitcher. But as soon as I saw the red-brothed, chunky mess through the side of the clear plastic pitcher, I became unbelievably tickled by the inevitable reaction of our other two roommates when they opened the fridge. (Emilie calls it a FRIG. As she points out, refrigerator does not have a “D” in it.)

Since we were both in a mood that made us feel silly even in our arms and legs and feet and fingertips, this little thought was enough to stop us from successfully completing any of our kitchen tasks, especially continuing to pour soup. We melted.

After several minutes of not breathing. I managed to calm myself through a series of deep breaths and suppressed diaphragm spasms.

Within minutes we were both laying on our stomachs, cheeks pressed to the tile floor, marveling at how cool and relaxing the kitchen floor felt against our bodies.

UPDATE: We now sit on the kitchen floor with the lights off almost nightly, eating cookies, and drinking milk. Our roommate Morgan almost always walks by and gives us a puzzled and judgmental look. Last night we had friends over and there were five of us sitting on the kitchen floor, listening to Mumford and Sons, waiting for the cookies cool. Even Morgan and Dalin joined us.