[Scene: Taking meatloaf out of oven. That I so wisely put on to cook and set a stop time on, because I unexpectedly had to take Hubby's hand-held-computer-order-machine-work-thingie to him 20 miles away while I was TRYING to watch last night's recording of Dancing with the Stars. Shhhhhhhh.........please don't tell me. MAYBE I'll get to watch the rest of it tomorrow. I was semi-frantic because in addition to having to prepare dinner AND watch DWTS, I also needed to prepare a lesson for tonight's online session. And I NEVER prepare those in advance, just in case the wild world of Contemporary Literature changes so drastically that any topic I might prepare on.......say Sunday night......should suddenly be rendered useless. Whatever. I didn't need to lose that hour of my life that I spent taking his computer to him. But I did ride the Harley down there, so it wasn't a total loss.]
Me: Son of a b***h!!!
WLPM*: Oh no, is it burned?
Me: No, I just spilled hot grease all down my front.
I offer here, merely for instructional purposes and not in any way to complain, several alternate endings to the above conversation.
WLPM: Oh my goodness, are you all right?
WLPM: Here, let me help you clean up the rest of the hot grease that you spilled on the floor.
WLPM: Come here, Gus, get out of Mama's way so she can clean up the grease.
WLPM: I'll set the table for you.
WLPM: What would you like to drink? [I'd be happy to hear this one, regardless of the fact that I DRINK THE SAME DAMN GLASS OF WATER EVERY NIGHT, IN THE SAME DAMN GLASS.]
WLPM: I'll wash the dishes so you can prepare your lesson.
*WLPM - World's Last Perfect Man [just in case you didn't figure that out already]