...Until the other day. Once again on a deadline, this time for the galley edits of the same book, I did something even dumber: I left the refrigerator door open all night long. Worse, said fridge apparently has some sort of energy-saving shut-off feature, because by the time I came downstairs the next morning and found it that way, the entire interior was downright warm.
|The sight that greeted me in the morning|
Even worse, my husband had JUST done the grocery shopping the day before, so it was packed from top to bottom with fresh food.
Even worse than that, so that I wouldn't have to worry about fixing any meals until after the book was done, I had used some of those groceries to cook up a huge batch of homemade vegetable soup.
Even worse than that, it was no ordinary soup. Rather than using cheap stew meat for the base, I had sacrificed a steak so that the whole thing would be extra savory. Talk about heartbreaking!
|Homemade vegetable and deviled eggs, all ruined|
It was the soup, in fact, that did me in. Unlike the trash bags in the washer, which will forever be one of life's great mysteries, I know exactly how this happened. Once the soup had cooled, I ladled it into various containers and stuck them in the fridge–then I simply turned and walked away without closing the door. Don't ask. These days, it's par for the course whenever my mind is fully immersed in a story.
To my surprise, it was practically melted. Like I said, it wasn't just not-quite-cool-enough in there, it was actually warm, probably thanks to the interior lightbulbs, which shone all night long.
What a waste–of food and time and, sob, an amazing batch of homemade vegetable soup.
Oh well, at least I got my edits in on time. Sniff.