there is a first time for everything...

and today's first, actually, yesterday's first is me breaking my effing left foot. Lynn, being the ever dutiful husband, stopped by Target on the way home for milk (and valentines). When he arrived home we were all up stairs so he put his shopping bags down on the counter (next to the stove) and made his way upstairs too. After fifteen minutes or so of giggling and rough housing with the boys all the fire alarms start going off simultaneously and one second after that I smelled melting plastic.

I'm not one for running, especially down the stairs, but at that moment I'm pretty sure I levitated down the stairs. That is until my foot landed on the foyer tile. Upon stepping on my left foot, I rolled onto the outside of it, thought to myself, "that's not going to be good," and proceeded into the kitchen to extinguish the three effing feet of flames lapping up onto my venthood. As it turns out I left the cutting board on one of the burners (BRILLIANT) and Lynn placed at least one of his bags on the knobs (beyond brilliant) and viola: first floor with smoke billowing, wretched burnt chemical smell and, AND, my first ever broken bone (after managing to be break free for THIRTY years).

Thank God it's only a (possibly, not yet confirmed it is confirmed now, ugh) broken foot and not a burned to the ground house! Happy Saint Valentine's Day to us!