.... in the kitchen. Or, more accurately, 'bang'. Whatever noise best represents the lid flying of a liquidizer (I've discovered that's 'blender' to my American audience) and spraying hot soup over apartment, myself and cat. Cat not impressed. Apartment didn't say much, but I doubt it thought the look suited its previously white walls.
Maybe this was a case of 'pride before blender-blast'. Since moving to Florida, I've actually starting cooking stuff. Like, not just pasta in a pot (the height of my NYC culinary achievement) but pies and cakes and real food. This is probably because people here all have kitchens. Proper ones designed to be there, rather than a stove shoved in a closet from when the apartment block used to be a giant house for NY billionaires. Hence, people really cook and make things and, being the sheep that I am, I've taken up the task too. This new interest culminated in asking for a cookery book for Christmas which was gladly provided by parents hoping to avoid desperate requests of 'Mum, can I have the recipe for your [insert favourite dish here] ' at 10 pm at night.
Prior to the soup blasting experience, the whole cooking-stuff-idea has been a success. I enjoy cooking it, the cat enjoys me cooking it and we both enjoy eating it. (One of us rarely waits until all the ingredients are compiled before tasting ... though actually, the cat doesn't have much patience either). The whole sharing thing is fun too.
But as with all new adventures, things need to be learnt. Like, holding the lid down on the blender, for instance. Oh yes...