The birthday cucumber
Three minutes later, the smell has become even more intense. The neighbors probably, I think with me. And: Ventilate into the hallway is really beknackt.
10 minutes later I make myself on the way to the kitchen to taste the wonderful, bubbling on the stove swirl stew final. Pretty hot here, I think and turn the heating down a bit. It's like in the oven here. ...
oven. Oven? OVEN !!!
Since the interior lighting of our Rommel has gone the way of all light bulbs some time ago, I can not see much - only the small function light grins at me in the dark gaudy and red.
In the oven, the birthday cake is from the man ... I look at the clock. 21:45.
"No, no, no, nooooo!", I think. I forgot the cake in the oven! In a millisecond, I overcame the scarce meter to Rommel, open the flap, burn my hand briefly and then rather tear the sheet out of the oven with a dishcloth. Before me lies a withered, dark brown something. Damn it! That can not be true!!! I'm such a stupid turkey! Tears come to my eyes.
Above me, I hear the universe giggle hilariously.
"Is everything alright with you, honey?", Shouts the man from the living room. I have to gather briefly and flute back "Yes, but darling!". There is nothing good at all. Tomorrow the man has his birthday, it's almost 10 o'clock in the evening, all the shops are closed and I have no ingredients left in the house.
"When's the food?" Shouts the man. I decide that the burnt monster must first disappear in the oven again. I have to deal with that later. Concentrating on the essentials: our dinner.
I try the turnip stew and have spontaneous tears again: The stew is so hot that I briefly feel that a stream of magma would flow down my esophagus. The thing literally takes your shoes off. But I've just done a tiny bit of the Habanero chili in the pot! The universe is rolling with laughter on the floor. Anyway - with the attitude of a Jeanne dÁrc I clamp a cup of sour cream under my arm as a counterweight to the sharp and carry the pot into the living room.
Five minutes later, the man puts on his jacket and gets on the Way to the gas station to get an edible spare dinner bread. He brings mini salami in the aluminum packaging. I am miserable. Among other things because I ate the stew out of defiance in the meantime.
I remember that the cake might not be so bad and in the dawn of a new day it might seem edible. Hope dies last. As you know.
This morning at 6:42 am, not only does my yeast heart look just as horrible as it did the night before - the attractive consistency of a concrete column has also increased overnight. It's so hard that I can not manage to put the birthday candles into things, despite various aids.
A birthday without cake AND without candles? The man will immediately file for divorce! And rightly so. I need a replacement for the candles ...
10 Minutes later, the kid and I set up in front of the birthday table with the burning candles and sing Happy Birthday for the man."Ah, and what is that? A cake? Is it maybe a bit crisp? "He tries with full force to break off a piece of
concrete pastry, but then lets it stay. The man is doing very well.
"Yesterday, not having had such a good kichen karma, huh?"
I am very ashamed. And he thinks that's cute.
Anyway, Happy, Happy Birthday, best man of all!
PS: If any multinational wants to bring this awesome birthday cucumber out to dieters - the license would be quite cheap right now.