Nebulous Mooch

Today our stove blew up. Well to put it in a less dramatic way, one of our burners shorted out. Saying it like that doesn’t do justice to the tremendous bang and large amount of sparks that were produced by this event. I’d turned the stove on and went to set a pan on it. As soon as the pan touched the burner the sparks started flying.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m not a cool and collected person in situations like this. I’m afraid of fire and afraid of getting burned. I didn’t learn how to light a match until I was nineteen. I’m still afraid to light a cigarette lighter. Every time I cook, I’m afraid of starting a fire. I run through what to do if there is a fire over and over again in my mind.

When this happened, I was cool as a cucumber. With sparks flying through the air, I took the pan off the burner. As my husband tried to turn off the stove, I opened the breaker box and turned off the circuit. No problem.

If I’d been alone, I would’ve curled up and a ball and sobbed after that happened. We had company at the time so I went on with the conversation like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. That’s what you do when you’re cool or, at least, pretending to be cool like me.

With gas prices steadily rising, everyone is trying to find a way to cut down on fuel consumption. My husband thinks he has found the ideal way to cut down on his fuel consumption. He coasts.

“I’ve already noticed a difference,” he said as we crept down a residential street with the car in neutral. “I haven’t even touched the gas once.” He had a look of glee on his face.

I nervously checked the mirror to make sure no one was behind us. It didn’t seem like a good idea to me.

“Don’t worry. There’s no one behind us,” he said before putting the car in gear and stepping on the gas. This is my husbands answer to a hybrid car. I guess he’ll be doing this until we can afford to buy one.

He figures that when he’s driving downhill, approaching a stop, or exiting the interstate, he can coast. He can also coast when he’s built up enough speed to go for a while without stepping on the gas. That sounded okay to me until he drove on the shoulder of the on ramp to I-275. “I have to make the turns wide so I get the most out of it,” he said. I still don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. I just gripped the door handle and hoped we didn’t end up in the grass.

I don’t think saving gas is worth endangering your life or aggravating other drivers. I coast when approaching a stop, but that’s all the coasting I do.

I haven’t posted a blog in forever. I had a miscarriage two weeks ago and things have been quite busy and emotionally draining. I’ll be blogging again next week.