Kitchen Devastation

Hubby made his first attempt at his own special hot sauce last night, using peppers from our own garden. I was upstairs, since Kev seemed to think that my presence in the kitchen would hinder his creative genius. The sounds of progress heralded his first attempts into the culinary arts...I was nervous, but hopeful.

Then.......silence.

A complete absence of noise from below-stairs.

As many of you with small children will attest, when your child goes very quiet in an area not within your immediate line of vision, it is not unreasonable to assume grave mischief.

The same is true of my husband in the kitchen.

I flew down the stairs, turned the corner, and raced into the kitchen.
A LAKE of hot sauce covered the counters, dripping in puddles on the floor. Red, oozing goo dripped from the cabinets and flowed across the stove. After a quick survey of the devastation, my began to smart. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. My nose began to burn and run.

My tears were not due to the mess made of kitchen, oh no. Habaneros, Anaheims, Jalapenos and sweet peppers had all gone into Kev's secret, special, potent sauce.

He had, in effect, manufactured pepper spray. And it was all over my kitchen.