Death of the Yellow Colander

You know when you move in with your significant other, and you’re going through the whole sorting and combining of items? One of the items I inherited with the merge was a 70’s yellow-gold colander with a handle. I never really complained, not even when my smaller, “prettier”, white colander made it’s way to Goodwill a couple of years later. The Husband seemed to think this yellow colander was somehow the best of what we had and worth keeping.

Wedding registration came around. Even after I got a modern colander set from Pampered Chef, the yellow colander somehow still stuck around. It couldn’t help that it was so fugly; after all, it was still functional, but I began asking myself why I bothered to register for “nice” things for the wedding if the Husband and I were still going to use the ratty, old colander? You have to remember my old white colander hit the road to Donation City, so I was stuck using the yellow guy too before the wedding gifts arrived. I kinda got used to it, plus it was always stored in a much more convenient place to get to than my new set was post wedding.

So here we are last night in the kitchen; I’m making treats for work (So long fellow co-worker. I can’t wait until your crappy work is dumped off onto me to pick up the slack now that we're short staffed. All the best. Thanks), and Brett decides to whip up some linguine and marinara sauce. I’m minding my own business, trying to ignore the mess that I’m going to have to clean up after he zones out on the couch after eating his feast, and continue working on my own stuff. Time goes on, I’ve got the oven going; the stove is covered in dirty pans (3 of them), the yellow colander, a ¾ empty jar of spaghetti sauce and some spoons. I have my back turned to the stove and just keep plugging away at what I am doing. I keep hearing this crackling, snapping noise, but don’t think anything of it. Keep working. So I put my stuff in the oven, and notice the colander has some sort of soupy mixture in the bottom of it. I am wondering why the heck the Husband would put liquid in a colander on the stove, and all of a sudden within seconds it dawns on me, the stove is still on! I go to pick up the colander, just a little bit, and yeah, that thing has melted right onto our Flat Top Range. I call out to the Husband who is by this time lounging on the couch watching the Redwings play, enjoying his meal and a glass of wine. “Uhh, you left the stove on and burned the colander onto it!” It takes another minute for him to come into the kitchen and assess the damage. He lifts the colander up and it looks like cheese has melted all over the stove, with strings of the colander connected from the base to the stove, kind of similar to when you take a slice of hot pizza. The colander hits the garbage and I suggest that Brett get a razor out and scrape the plastic-cheese-melt up while it’s still soft. I’m patting myself on the back for that idea. Using a paper towel would’ve smeared the mess all over the rest of the stove, not to mention the burner was still hot so it's not like you could rub paper on it with your hands. I have to admit, he did a great job cleaning up. I thought it was going to be waaaay worse than it was. I was having small visions of having to replace a stove that wasn’t even two years old.

Several minutes later, he resumes his position on the couch, continuing to watch the game and I hear come out of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the television, “We needed to get rid of that thing anyway”. Of course we did! I’ve wanted to get rid of that thing since day one of moving in together! Ugh! Those are the thoughts running through my brain, but I calmly say, “So you burned it?”. We both had a good laugh over that. Then it dawned on me; it’s the perfect crime. Why didn’t I think of that before? Don’t be surprised if in two months you’re reading about the accidental fire at my house involving Grateful Dead, tie-dye t-shirts and Bob Marley posters.