I don’t know what is going on with mornings and me. First, I lock my keys in my running car.  The very next day, I go to make coffee.  It is raining, I do have milk so I decide to make a pot myself. Put a pot onto the stove front electric burner and turn it on.  Continuing to putter around the kitchen counter as I wait for the water to boil.

I knock the paper towel roll onto the stove back burner.  No biggie. Then I realize I turned on the wrong burner as the paper towel roll caught fire when it made contact with the back burner.

You know, there is something about having to handle a flaming roll of paper towels before you have had your morning coffee that really sets your morning off to a good start.  It would have been easier if I did not have a sink full of dishes because I did not empty the dish washer yet.

I stomped the flames out on my kitchen floor.  Good thing I have a creamic tiled floor and NEVER go barefoot.  Not even in my own home.  (Raised from Italian parents that believed unshod feet are a sign of low class).

Satisfied that the roll is out, I turn on the FRONT burner (I swear all the written print in this house is shrinking).  Go to get a new roll of paper towels from the garage.  I stand in the middle of my ash strewn kitchen and wonder. “Are a few dull mornings too much to ask for?”