In my usual morning hazy, daze, I stuck a potato in the microwave for three minutes so it could nuke while I fried some bacon, sausage and eggs. I got the bacon and sausage going, cracked a couple of eggs into another pan and stuffed some rye bread into the toaster.
The dogs decided that they wanted out again, so I opened the door for them and went back to cooking.
I poured a glass of milk, rolled the sausages around and flipped the bacon over. The eggs were almost done so I took them off the burner, buttered the toast and let the dogs back in.
I got a plate down and slid the eggs onto it. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the fire I had lit in the fireplace was merrily burning.
Oh crap! That's not the fireplace, it's the microwave!
I turned it off and realized that I had evidently double punched the three button and set it for thirty three minutes instead of three. I fumbled around under the sink looking for a spritzer bottle with water in it to put out the fire, but by the time I found one, the blaze had gone out. There actually wasn't much left to burn.
I put the last cremains of a Yukon Gold potato in the sink, ran water on it and started the exhaust fan to clear out the smoke. It doesn't smell too bad I thought, forgetting about the loss of my sense of smell.
When Carol got up she let me know that her sense of smell works just fine!
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