No word of a lie.
Today, I missed catching the garbage truck. My hubs always collects and puts out the garbage and recycling (sometimes I assist), but I got up later than planned and couldn't throw out my moldy, rotted flowers in with the trash.
So I improvised.
We have this high-falutin' food chewer-and-spitter-upper in the sink in our new place. It's called an InSinkErator, or garburator, and once I got over the insane guilt it caused me for not green-binning the organic waste, I started to kind of love it.
I'm evil, I know.
Stinky food peels? Garburatored.
Shit like cores and inedible vegetable parts getting in my way when I am (trying to) cook? Garburatored.
Mildewy flowers that have clouded their vase and are emanating a horrible rotten smell? Well, I would normally say garbage. But... I missed the truck and those babies smelled like rotten alien poo laced with a maggoty barn.
So... I figured... since I was sorting through what was still alive and salvageable right there at the sink... that... well, hey there, garburator! Flowers aren't so different from vegetables, right?
I'm sure you've handled worse, Garburator! In fact, the old owner of this house said there was nothing you couldn't chew up! So...
I started jamming rotten flowers down the sink. Despite my common sense telling me that it probably wasn't wise.
(Re-reading that caused me to break into laughter. Dear gawd this baby is going to be so screwed once it is born...)
Though, it was fun to watch the longer stems spinning around chaotically while the garburator did its thing... I kept squinting, half expecting daisy shrapnel to find its way back up and into my eyes.
So... the really hard stems still went in the garbage, which was okay because they weren't stinky. I threw a few more things in the sink as I sorted. Then I realized that some of them actually had a thin green wire threaded through them to keep them Viagra-proud and upright.
SHIT.
Pretty sure metal wire is NOT garburate-able.
Though I am 99% sure that I hadn't tossed any wired flowers down there, I was still convinced I had somehow busted our new-fangled fancy sink doodad. It seemed like stuff was still spinning, and water was spitting back at me when it shouldn't be. Dammit!
Fast forward to when the hubs is home.
I admit I shoved flowers down the sink. He looks at me in disbelief, probably remembering how impossible many of the stems were to trim, on the night he brought them home to me when I was quite sick.
I hadn't explained that I threw those super tough motherf*ckers straight into the garbage.
His next comment?
"Did you put your hand into the garburator to see if there was anything stuck?"
Seriously.
I mean, really, seriously.
Anyone who knows me knows EXACTLY how that scenario would have ended up. I would be raising this kid eventually with one hand and one prosthetic limb. All for the sake of a kitchen doodad.
No, sorry honey, I didn't put my hand into the terrifyingly whirring, spinning, bladed, sinkhole of destruction. For once, just ONCE, I realized that the potential gain did not outweigh the more-than-likely loss.
Ah, husband. I should have gotten rational points for that one. Really.
Seriously.
So he shoved his hand down there.
Into the garburator, I mean, you pervert.
And he declared that was what they did when stuff got stuck in their garburator growing up, but that it felt like it was all clear.
Hmph.
Last time I'm honest about jamming inappropriate things down the garbage disposal.
_________________
Pin It Now!
Today, I missed catching the garbage truck. My hubs always collects and puts out the garbage and recycling (sometimes I assist), but I got up later than planned and couldn't throw out my moldy, rotted flowers in with the trash.
So I improvised.
We have this high-falutin' food chewer-and-spitter-upper in the sink in our new place. It's called an InSinkErator, or garburator, and once I got over the insane guilt it caused me for not green-binning the organic waste, I started to kind of love it.
I'm evil, I know.
Stinky food peels? Garburatored.
Shit like cores and inedible vegetable parts getting in my way when I am (trying to) cook? Garburatored.
Mildewy flowers that have clouded their vase and are emanating a horrible rotten smell? Well, I would normally say garbage. But... I missed the truck and those babies smelled like rotten alien poo laced with a maggoty barn.
So... I figured... since I was sorting through what was still alive and salvageable right there at the sink... that... well, hey there, garburator! Flowers aren't so different from vegetables, right?
I'm sure you've handled worse, Garburator! In fact, the old owner of this house said there was nothing you couldn't chew up! So...
I started jamming rotten flowers down the sink. Despite my common sense telling me that it probably wasn't wise.
(Re-reading that caused me to break into laughter. Dear gawd this baby is going to be so screwed once it is born...)
Though, it was fun to watch the longer stems spinning around chaotically while the garburator did its thing... I kept squinting, half expecting daisy shrapnel to find its way back up and into my eyes.
So... the really hard stems still went in the garbage, which was okay because they weren't stinky. I threw a few more things in the sink as I sorted. Then I realized that some of them actually had a thin green wire threaded through them to keep them Viagra-proud and upright.
SHIT.
Pretty sure metal wire is NOT garburate-able.
Though I am 99% sure that I hadn't tossed any wired flowers down there, I was still convinced I had somehow busted our new-fangled fancy sink doodad. It seemed like stuff was still spinning, and water was spitting back at me when it shouldn't be. Dammit!
Fast forward to when the hubs is home.
I admit I shoved flowers down the sink. He looks at me in disbelief, probably remembering how impossible many of the stems were to trim, on the night he brought them home to me when I was quite sick.
I hadn't explained that I threw those super tough motherf*ckers straight into the garbage.
His next comment?
"Did you put your hand into the garburator to see if there was anything stuck?"
Seriously.
I mean, really, seriously.
 |
| Hahahah, yeah right, like I'd have a manicured nail like that. If I did, I'd be keeping it far away from the garburator. |
Anyone who knows me knows EXACTLY how that scenario would have ended up. I would be raising this kid eventually with one hand and one prosthetic limb. All for the sake of a kitchen doodad.
No, sorry honey, I didn't put my hand into the terrifyingly whirring, spinning, bladed, sinkhole of destruction. For once, just ONCE, I realized that the potential gain did not outweigh the more-than-likely loss.
Ah, husband. I should have gotten rational points for that one. Really.
Seriously.
So he shoved his hand down there.
Into the garburator, I mean, you pervert.
And he declared that was what they did when stuff got stuck in their garburator growing up, but that it felt like it was all clear.
Hmph.
Last time I'm honest about jamming inappropriate things down the garbage disposal.
_________________
Do you mean garbage disposal?
ReplyDelete@Bridgitt - Yep. I think garburator might be a brand name? Not sure. That's what everyone around here calls it.
DeleteYou lost me at "daisy shrapnel". LOL
ReplyDelete@Miss CB - Just tryin' to keep it real. Flowers + blades = DANGER!! Next time I'm busting out the safety goggles.
DeleteMy parents have an insinkerator, and it's standard practice at their place that, if you're about to put your hand down there, you yell "clear" really loudly. I'm not sure why, the switch for it is behind the microwave and so hard to reach you'd be able to crash tackle anyone trying to turn it on long before you lost a limb.
ReplyDelete@Kellie @ Delightfully Ludicrous - Hi there! I think the "clear!" is a wise idea. You never know who might come bumbling along, smacking switches randomly!
DeleteWhen he DID put his hand down there, he told me in no uncertain terms to "just stand back!". Probably best for all of us, since the light switch above shares the same wallplate as the insinkerator switch.
I should have crash tackled him, just for funsies. ;)
You just reminded me that I really should chuck the dead flowers sitting on my table. I am pretty sure they are getting pretty stinky and I dont have a fancy garburator
ReplyDeleteWhat do you mean metal isn't garboratable? Isn't everything garboratable?!
ReplyDeleteIt killed me, JUST KILLED me not to be able to comment on this. We had one for a while, and we called it a garbourator. All was well until someone let a spoon slide in while it was running. That got exciting for a few minutes. You couldn't convince me to put my hand in there. Not ever. When we built this house we discussed putting one in. The wiring is there for it, and a switch that does nothing in our kitchen. But Linda wouldn't have it. I think she thought it was the start of a long slippery slope of decadence that would lead to us getting a new washer/dryer, then a dishwasher, and then to total debauchery of a cappichino espresso maker, to say nothing of a food processor, and other useful gadgets.
ReplyDeleteWow. I would not have stuck my hand in there for anything. Or at least if I did I would have gone to the breaker and turned the power off the kitchen. Even if that meant I had to reset the microwave clock.
ReplyDeleteI mean, hasn't he seen any horror movies!?
Honest to god, the only way I'm sticking my hand down the disposal is if I unplug it first. And even then, I've seen enough Final Destinations to know that's not a guarantee. I'm with Queen Holly; I may have to go to the garage and flip the breaker first.
ReplyDelete