Steamed Milk

When you haven't slept for more than a couple of hours at a stretch for, I don't know, 8 years, things like this start to happen to you.

I needed to iron a few things. I plugged in my iron and started pressing away. I needed some steam. Because my spray bottle has gone the way of all things that spray in a house of boys, I decided to use the steam feature on my iron. I've done it before and it works just fine.

I filled a white cup with water so I could pour it into the little slot on the top of the iron. But Miss Wendy needed my help, so I set it down on the counter. When she was taken care of, I came back, picked up the cup and went to fill up the iron.

Well, I was pouring away from myself, keeping an eye on the little window on the iron so I'd know when to stop filling...when the window fills with white! Aghhhh! I picked up the wrong glass and have just filled my iron with milk! POOOOOOOOOSHHHHH! A big old burst of steamed milk came shooting out of the iron just as I realized what I'd done.

So I unplug the iron and race over to the sink, POOOOOOOOOSHing milk all the way. I tip the hot iron upside down and shake it, trying to get the milk out. POOOOOOOOOOSH! POOOOOOOOOOSH! Steamed milk went everywhere. Then I filled it with water and shook it out again and again, hoping that I could get all the milk out of the belly of the iron.

I guess I'll know in a couple of days if I was successful or not.

Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Miss Wendy took a liking to the wig I borrowed for Halloween. She was singing very loudly while wearing it around. It was so funny! La la laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!