Mornings are a good time for me. I am generally a very happy person at any time of the day, so whether it’s a 6am start or finish to my day, there is usually a good mood. Occasionally, I may not be on point or fully present due to exhaustion or mega multi-tasking in my brain so there may be moments of chaos that would rival shenanigans only found on “I Love Lucy”.

It was one of those” 5 different events in 5 days” runs I sometimes have and by day 4, I can be a little loopy. With only 3 hours of sleep, it was already time to start the prep for the next event. If I am going to function in any capacity, there must be coffee and food- specifically, breakfast. Without it, my sunny deposition is non- existent. Crawling through the kitchen, I grab my best friend Folgers, toss 4 giant scoops in the filter, shut the lid and hit “hurry!” on the coffee maker. I’d been eating well lately, so i decided to treat myself to two blueberry pop tarts in the toaster while I waited for the java jolt to brew. I set the empty mug on the counter, popped in the pastries, cranked the toaster up to the “that’s right- these will scorch your tongue when you bite into them” setting and spun around to the fridge to grab the non- fat creamer. ( I know, non fat? It’s the equivalent of ordering a #2 super sized with a large diet from McDonalds, but cream cream is, well, bleeckh). DRAMA! No non- fat creamer in the fridge. Luckily, for emergency situations such as this, I keep in the cabinet above the toaster, behind the popcorn, syrup and crunchy peanut butter, a container of that powdered creamer stuff to get me through this horrific situation. It’s gross, but conveniently tricks the mind into thinking there is nothing missing from the coffee mug, or jug in my case.

With the toaster still blazing away on my blueberry goodness, I reach right above it and sleepily grabbed the faux creamer only to have the container knock over and launch dried chemical milk powder everywhere, including into the red hot toaster. Imagine my Lucy Ricardo- esque reaction when flames shot up out of the toaster in response to the snow storm of Coffee Mate. In a matter of a half a second, I had a full fledged blaze going. All I could do was my best Lucy scream, run in a circle, unplug the toaster and toss the dish towel from the neighboring stove over the damn thing and beat it with my hands. The fire went out immediately and 3 seconds later, all that was left of my much anticipated blueberry pop tarts was two charred rectangles in a formerly shiny chrome death trap toaster. My first thought? Thank God I didn’t have my bell sleeve, lace trimmed poly blend robe on or this could have turned ugly. Pretty happy I was the only one home, too. So, with event #4 looming over my now VERY awake head, I told both dogs to shut their furry faces or no treats ever again, scooped up enough chemical cream from the cabinet and countertop, tossed it in my mug, added coffee, dug a blackened tart out of the toaster with a knife and went on about my day. Cracking up.

In the end, no harm done really. I always hated that toaster, and this was a good excuse to hit Macy’s for new towels for the bathroom and pillows for the bed. What? Doesn’t everyone justify overspending that way? Besides, this mornings event almost rivals the waterfall incident from the second floor down into the den. That was another fun episode of early morning hijinx I might share later if I get Ethyl’s permission.