I've always been a touch on the clumsy side: I've broken several bones, bit through my tongue, and knocked myself out at least three times. But I think last night might be among my crowning glories of clumsiness.
The Targo bought me these super-wonderfully-sinful Pepperidge Farm cookies: Chocolate chunk with caramel.
These cookies are even better if they're just a slight bit warm, you know, and gooey. Well, I was nuking one last night while I poured a glass of milk. We inherited our microwave from The Targo's deceased grandma ... and it's totally Polish. I'm not just making fun, I really think it is. The stupid thing has a dial instead of a digital control, and the dial will not work unless it's set for at least 2 minutes.
So, I was pouring my milk, counting my seconds, and got distracted. Twenty seconds or so went by. I took the cookie out of the microwave and it was a limp, melted mess. A caramel chunk jumped out of the cookie and landed on my thumb. Of course the first thing I did was stick my thumb in my mouth. And then, I threw the cookie in my glass of milk, where it sizzled for a good 3-5 seconds.
Today, the roof of my mouth is completely burned and sore and my thumb, well, there's a huge blister from the evil caramel chunk. Again with the smooth.