ProPAIN and Cellophane

I now suspect that propane delivery will be a sneak attack.  I have prepared armed sentries to keep a 24 hour vigil to ensure that the gas bandit doesn’t pass us by like a thief in the night.  I can think of only two possible scenarios.  The propane man is either a Ninja with ulterior motives or he has been hijacked by some gas hoarding loony somewhere between here and there.  Regardless of the reason for the delay, the inconvenience is starting to wear on my nerves.  We have kept as warm as possible and the increase in exterior temps is doing its part.  We have even been able to maintain our beauty rituals by utilizing our guest shower that is hooked into an electric hot water heater.  Doing dishes in the bathroom sink is sort of out of the question, so certain domestic chores are starting to become backlogged.  Despite the inconvenience of it all, the pause in action does allow one to address matters often left unattended.  For example, I thought it might be wise to open the refrigerator and have a peak.  In doing so, I began to dig toward the back of the shelves.  What I found was an appauling array of scientific study in varying stages of incubation.

How could I have not known that these laboratory cultures were lingering in the recesses of my refrigerator?  CLING FILM, that’s how.  Nearly as versatile as duct tape, the variety of uses one can find for cellophane wrap absolutely boggles the mind.  With good reason too, for the tensile strength of the product is like Spiderman’s web and its ability to absorb rancid odors is unparalleled.  For its intended purpose it works almost too well.  I have heard that there are those that have utilized it for toilet pranks as well as an alternative to pricey lingerie.  Hats off to those with such ingenuity.  It would seem that our ability to preserve left overs has become an illness.  Perhaps it is the whole “starving children in Africa” thing that makes us think that we will re-visit  a marginally prepared dinner (by yours truly) after it has become cold and soggy.  I can tell you that the swill I produce in our kitchen is barely palatable when it is warm, so it doesn’t have to lose a lot of luster over night to become completely inedible.  That being said, though we seem to be keeping the Rubbermaid Corporation in business with our unparalleled collection of stackable food storage containers, we continue to place our left overs in the refrigerator in their original serving receptacles under the watchful eye of our industrial roll of cling film.

I hope you don’t think badly of my decision to let sleeping dogs lie and immediately slam the refrigerator door shut in an effort to survive to fight another day.  Not having hot water means that the hazmat cleanup that will be necessary to rid my refrigerator of such toxins will have to wait for another day.  No worries though, just for good measure I gave each a second coating of cling film and that should last them another month or two.  Once hot water is restored, perhaps I will have the boys earn a little extra scratch by helping me with some dishes.  That should be good for a laugh or two.  They should have plenty of time for such projects as the coming week marks ANOTHER two week vacation from school.  Not a bad gig.  The first week will have us playing bachelor pad while the wife conducts a bit of business in Russia, and the following week she will rejoin us for a bit of skiing in the Pyrenees.  Not a bad late winter break if I do say so myself.  Our lack of skiing prowess has us opting out of the Alps, but if all goes well, perhaps we will brave the steeper slopes next year.

As is her usual way, the wife asked if she could get her boys anything on her trip and of course that didn’t get much of a response from the younger lads, but our recent plunge into the ice age got me thinking.  What better way to survive the brutal propaneless winter months than a great big furry Russian hat.  The order has been made and I will wear it proudly as I shuffle around the ice rink in our living room for the remainder of the winter.  That is all that seems fit to report and my fingertips are starting to feel a bit frost bitten.  Time to return them to the warmth of my mittens and bid you all a farewell for now.  R.