Tuesday, 5 January 2010

No success... but only partial failure

Curse this New Year resolution business! If I ever finish my time-machine, I shall go back and seek out the benighted fool who came up with the idea, and put some cogent arguments to him with a large stick. Mrs QO came home and, instead of heading to the icebox as I had every right to expect, announced with every evidence of pride that one of her resolutions was to do something of domestic value every day, and she was going to put a load of washing on. Imagine my mortification!

Fortunately, by explaining in some detail my plans to commence collecting early Etruscan stoneware, I managed to distract her somewhat during the loading phase, so she didn't notice the icetray, ice-cream and sausages already in there. Her eyes were acquiring the sort of glaze one might expect on one of the better sort of pot, interestingly.

Unfortunately, I myself got distracted during the evening (studying social behaviour among weasels, and quite fascinating it was). I had intended to empty the washing machine myself; partly to avoid what I suspected would be a tedious conversation with Mrs QO, and partly because it had occurred to me that the outcome of a wash cycle including food items might be of potential interest. Large quantities of stews, casseroles and so on could easily be prepared - a serendipitous subject for future research!

However, as I say, my distraction - and Mrs QO's new-found diligence - meant that she herself was the one to open the washing machine. You will not be surprised to read that a tedious conversation then indeed took place. A tedious and rather lengthy conversation, during which I was accused of some rather hurtful failings. I gather that the casings or skins of the sausages had not survived the experience, and that she was troubled by the quantity of semi-cooked pork meat now adhering to the laundry. Obviously I could not reveal the truth so, with great presence of mind, I explained that I had been experimenting with a new method of preparing large quantities of stews, casseroles and so on.

"But you had sausages and [expletive deleted] ice-cream in there!!"

"Ice-cream? Really? Oh dear. I thought it was frozen stock of some sort."

"Frozen chocolate stock? With [expletive deleted] nuts in?"

I fear it would be of little value to record the entire conversation, so let's just say that the sooner she starts drinking again, the better for my peace of mind and for the world of science.

Not all is lost, of course, since the icebox of the deep-freeze remains primed for our experiment. It can surely only be a matter of time before she heads for a 5.30 bourbon on the rocks (Friday would be my guess) so all may be well. I've decided I will turn the delay to advantage by adding some more magnets and converting the electricity supply to three-phase. That should put some ooomph behind it. I can't wait.

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