I was going to extol the virtues of spending time in nature with family. Some bleeding heart stuff about activities with kids and how it brings you all closer together with memories; blah, blah, blah.... I could have even gone further with delightful pictures of the girls and I angelically stirring a bubbling pot of jam on the stove. Yeah, coulda. If I hadn't just spent the last hour scraping that bubbling jam off the top of my flat top cooker. Did you know that jam turns to concrete when cooked in such a way? mmmhhmm, it does. Yup.
Well, I still have to put out the garbage and maybe take another crack at some of the concrete embedded into the stove. It might just be one of those memory spots, but hey, the floor under the stove got swept and swiffered when I pulled the stove out to wash the f#@%$#^#$@$#!!!! jam off the side of it. I still have the largest basket and one of the smaller baskets to deal with tomorrow. Perhaps I can manage to splatter the ceiling or walls with red droplets of goo that will make me tear my hair asunder and cry like it is the end of the earth. That is another day though. Happy Father's Day.