I live in such a caring sharing neighborhood

Dear Neighbors,
I just wanted to write and say thank you for being so SO generous and sharing all your beautiful music with me. I'm sure it must be painful to have the music that loud, but hey, thanks for taking one for the team and playing My Humps loud enough for me to get the full poetic genius of the lyrics right in my own livingroom. Remind me to return the favor sometime. With my favorite tracks from the Ultra Lounge series, or perhaps something from Astrud Gilberto. You know, I want to return the favor and broaden your horizons like you've broadened mine.
Big Love,
Susan

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So today, I'm cleaning the kitchen. That shouldn't be such a big deal, but we had an accident in these parts the other day. I came home after reading through Crazy Aunt Purl's archives by way of the liquor store with a bottle of wine tucked under my arm.

Note: If you haven't been reading this blog, you should! She is so damn funny and endearing. And open and honest. You can't help but like her- plus, she's southern, and since half of my family lives in GA, reading her blog feels like home. Hey, Laurie, you wanna talk about blogstalking- not only am I totally stalking you, but I'm inviting all my friends to, also!

Isn't the wine bottle pretty? Now, I've had some wine edumacation in my day- I've been working on grapes for 5 years now, so I got away with taking Intro to Wines at the Cornell Hotel School- but sometimes, a pretty bottle comes home with me just cuz it's pretty.

Anyway, I came home, took off my shoes and thought I had stepped in something wet. But I couldn't find it. I wandered around the house for a while, walked back into the kitchen, and stepped in it again. This time it felt oily. Finally, I started rubbing my hands on the floor. And they came up looking like this:

All shiny and covered with oil. Coming from somewhere mysterious. And it smelled funny. Then I looked back into the dining room and saw all my oily little footprints running around in there.



Kouros didn't like the smell much, either, cause he kept trying to bury the oily footprints after he sniffed them.

Finally I recognized the smell, opened the fridge and found the culprit- the jar of anchovies!

It was resting on its side with a trickle of oil running down the inside of the fridge, under the stove and out onto the kitchen floor. I wiped it all up but didn't get around to washing the floor. Good thing, too, because every few hours there was a new trickle of anchovy oil emerging from under the oven. Lemme tell ya, black cat hair LOVES anchovy oil on the floor.


So, I'm off to scrub the floor, and then maybe later I'll do some knitting. This is a knitblog after all, right?





Who'd have thought that little jar had 3 days worth of oil in it.