Butterfingers

No, not the tasty candy bar. I am a butter fingers. (But, man, don’t you want some chocolate with a buttery crunch now?)

When LT Fromage and I got married, we didn’t bother registering for china, I would have broken it before we made it to our first anniversary. Just like the coffee pot I broke in a hotel in New York. It was “the most tired I have ever been” (That quote has become infamous in the Fromage household), so tired that I was unable to grip the light and tiny, empty glass pot. After a loud crash, LT Fromage yelled from the shower, “Is everything ok?” to which I replied, “Uhm, yes. There’s just broken glass in the sink… I’m going to head to the lobby for coffee, would you like me to bring you some as well?”

I broke another coffee pot after that; it was LT Fromage’s coffee pot. His fancy-schmancy, 12-cup, with a timer, “I’m a real coffee drinker, look at this baby” coffee pot. He wasn’t home when I dropped it, so I quickly swept up the evidence and put my old, 4-cup “I’m a single lady who doesn’t drink much coffee” brewing system out. Of course, he noticed.* We used my old single lady machine for a while, but when he grew tired to brewing multiple pots over the course of breakfast, we purchased a new, larger coffee pot. Which I haven’t yet broken (Knock on wood) because LT Fromage is now in charge of coffee preparations.

*However, it wasn’t until he went to brew a pot and, thrown off by the small size, used a cup cake paper instead of a coffee filter. Which he would say was my bad, for keeping the cup cake liners nestled inside the coffee filters. Regardless of who was at fault, the coffee maker was filled with sludgey coffee grounds and we learned that a cup cake holder cannot be substituted for a filter.

More unfortunate than the broken coffee pots are the dishes that, at the time they were dropped, held food I had labored over. Ok, so I didn’t actually “labor over” the instant mashed potatoes (Ouch, yes, I am that lazy sometimes. I just hate mashing those darn spuds…). But, right before supper time my Pyrex mixing bowl was in pieces on the floor in a mess of “potatoes” (If you can call them that...). Perhaps the most devastating was the time I spent all afternoon making an aioli sauce for LT Fromage, who had once had it at a professor’s home and was lamenting over how he hadn’t had it since. Dinner time had arrived, the chicken was ready to plate, I reached for the sauce and CRASH. Aioli on the floor and another broken bowl. Damn.

I’ve broken many other dishes prior and since those incidences, thus, the decision to forgo the china and invest in Corelle dishware instead, which don’t break when dropped. Believe me, I’ve tried.