I Set Fire to the...Stove

I don't cook. I don't like to cook. I don't want to learn how to cook better. I only cook when I have to or I feel like I am failing in other parts of my marriage (like cleaning house, which I also hate).

I cooked one night because I felt like I needed to. Josh always cooks and he usually always cleans. He also works full-time. With this on my brain, I felt like a terrible wife and in order to compensate, I cooked. I didn't cook a glorious meal. I cooked a Velveeta Cheesy Skillet (which is really good when it isn't charred). I boiled the chicken on medium heat until it fell apart when I poked it with the fork. I followed the instructions exactly when I made the rest of it. I measured the ingredients as accurately as possible. This was going to be the best Cheesy Skillet ever. It was going to win awards.

I put the chicken and the other ingredients together in the pan and was letting it all cook (I don't remember what the other ingredients were). Everything was cooking smoothly, barely bubbling. There was no grease in the pan, just chicken, water, and the other ingredients. I noticed that the garbage can was about to overflow so I grabbed the bag out, tied it up, and asked Josh to take it to the dumpster. I got a new bag, put it in the garbage can, and turned back to the FLAMING STOVE.

"FIRE! FIRE! JOSH! FIRE! JOSH!" I screamed while staring into the yellow flames that were coming up from under the stove eye.

Josh was standing in the living room watching the television. He turned around, calmly walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and put water in it, poured it on the fire nonchalantly, and walked away. He extinguished the fire without saying two words. Then he took the trash out.

Now in the seconds that Josh was calmly saving our home, I was standing back doing nothing except for staring at my mess. "This is not good. This is so not good." I said. "Oh this is bad, Josh." I kept saying.

What was his reply to me? "Why didn't you put it out?"

BECAUSE I WAS TERRIFIED.

The food was done cooking shortly after that. Apparently when there is a fire beneath something, it really hurries up the cooking process. It turned out to taste pretty good. Well, it turned out to be edible. I have since been very cautious when stepping foot near the stove. I stayed scared of the stove for a good while after the incident, and I'm still not totally comfortable being alone with it. But when I feel like I am being a terrible wife, I turn those knobs and start boiling water.

Water can't catch on fire...right?