Death of a Crockpot

Being angry at Mondays is a good thing. It's like some sort of voodoo karma thing that bites you in the butt if you happen to be in a good mood on a Monday. And there I was yesterday, happy as can be, on my way home from work looking forward to some scrumptious chicken cacciatore I had made that morning in my crock-pot. My mood was so fine that I failed to notice my dog slink under the table as soon as I came through the door, my thoughts wholly centered on the fact that I have class on Monday nights and I get home long enough to eat really quick before diving out the door for the next three hours at COM100 so using my crock-pot on Mondays and Tuesdays works quite well. As I put down my purse and started to turn towards the stove to start boiling some water, that's when I saw it; this horrible thing. Shattered glass everywhere, the remains of my crock-pot flung about in disarray, tomato sauce all over the counters and floor, and the horrid lack of chicken cacciatore. I quietly let my dog out into the back, who escaped outside with a sigh of relief, and I turned back to the mess. I could physically feel the seconds counting down to when I had to rush back out the door again. Let's just say that for the rest of the time I was at home, I was pretty angry, and Molly was scared for her life. My crock-pot had been a wedding gift and I just wanted to sit down and have a good cry. Dratted dog! But anyway, I thought I would share my little movie with you all. Someday I will have a movie on how exactly she gets on the counters and knocks stuff off, so there's that to look forward to.