ME AND MY FROZEN BRAIN!!!

SEE THIS?



It is called a 'burn circle'. Isn't it pretty? I thought so too. Not. It is on my countertop right next to my stove, and it is there because I had something termed, well, brain freeze. Yes, that sums it up nicely. Read on to hear my tale of woe....UNLESS, of course, you can't bear drama, in which case you might want to click your 'back' button NOW.

I babysit my one-year-old grandson once a week, so you can start picturing the fun any time now. I was standing at the stove at 8 a.m. this past Thursday making him pancakes when from behind I heard a great shout of joy and utter exuberance. I glanced around only to discover the little doohickie on his sippy cup had come loose, making it very easy for him to splash his milk in every which direction, which in my case meant all over the floor and cabinet doors. Milk. EVERYWHERE. (Are you envisioning?) Well, the pancakes were done to sort of a burnt stage, and in my haste to clean up the disaster behind me I picked up the hot skillet and laid it on my countertop. (WHY DID I DO THAT? I told you - brain freeze.) Well, I reached for the paper towel and proceeded to clean the mess when the pancake smell intensified. OH, CRAP! (I can say that because my pastor sometimes says it in his sermons!) I jumped up and moved the skillet back to a cool burner, and that's when I saw the "ring". Quick as a lightning bolt I reached for the scouring powder, the 409, the bleach, anything, until I realized the futility in that when I felt the raised bubbles. Ohhhhh. "Gavin!" I said, looking at my one-year-old grand. "Look what you've done." He laughed as if I'd just tickled his tummy.

What I did next, after cleaning up the milk, was go to the phone to call my hubby. I needed to hear his words of..."Don't worry, honey, it was an accident." Foolish, living-in-a-bubble me. What I heard instead was, "You did what?" Then, "Honeeeeeeeeey, what were you thinking?" AND IN A NOT-SO-UNDERSTANDING TONE, either. Ugh.

"Do you think the insurance will cover it?" I asked.

Snide chuckling on the other end. "Uh. No."

"Isn't it worth a try?"

"I guess I could call them and say, 'Guess what my wife did. Will you cover it? No? Okay. Thanks anyway. Bye.'" He is already dealing with the insurance company and waiting for our agent to call back on some roof issues as a result of a bad storm. (Which also ruined part of our ceiling.) So, okay, I understood his being hesitant to bring up yet another claim, but couldn't he at least give it a shot? Nope. (Uh, also bear in mind he has been married to me for almost 34 years, so sometimes his patience tends to run a little thin, as I'm prone to doing things without thinking. Need I say more?)

"Give me the number. I'll call them," I said.

"No, I'll do it," he said in a relenting voice.

"How are you going to say it?" I asked.

"What? I'll just tell them what you just told me."

"You're going to make me sound stupid. Give me the phone number." At this point, I think he has the number memorized.

"All right, all right." He gave me the number.

Well, let me tell you, I happen to be very good with insurance agents, and I didn't even know I had that talent! I got a very nice, understanding, motherly type on the other end, and in my best storytelling voice I relayed exactly what happened.

"Oh, my goodness," she said. "Is your grandson all right? That's the important thing." I assured her he was absolutely fine even as I watched him try to figure out the nozzle on my Pledge Dusting Spray. "Well, let's start the claim process," she said. "That would fall under, hmm, fire."

"It would?"

"Yes. Here's your claim number. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"

And so it went. You cannot imagine how excited I was to call my husband and say, "Na-na-na-na-na-naaa." Just kidding, of course. (But, I did say it in my head.)

Incidentally, he's still waiting for a return call from the agent regarding the roof and ceiling situation and getting the royal runaround. In the meantime, I've already picked out my new Formica countertop!

I think it's all in the voice, don't you?

***Okay, I do have a bit of a confession to make in the midst of all this. The adjuster called me the next day to inform me they would only cover the cost of the damaged section. Huh? Which meant I had to try to match up my 12-year-old laminate? This is where hubby is G-O-O-O-O-D! He very politely called him back and said, "Uh, no. We've been given a claim number, instructed to obtain a full estimate, and you WILL replace all the countertop." Guess what...they ARE replacing everything, including island and telephone desk. So, like I said -- it's all in the voice.

And, no, you cannot babysit my grandson. I may need him next week to file another insurance claim!

--------------------------------------------------------------
I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!