|Yes, they made a fourth one. With French|
Stewart as a robber. French Stewart!
Ten days. By myself.
For some guys, a week and a half without the wife and kids would be a blur of cigars, strip clubs, and shotguns. (All right, maybe not for you, specifically, but you get the idea.)
But for me, however, things haven't gone off to such a great start.
I should mention that the last time I was left alone, Mrs. The Anthony Show and her friend went backpacking through Europe — this was less than a year into our marriage, and we didn't have kids yet — and one night I lost track of how much angel-hair pasta I was inhaling while watching a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond and discovered I had overeaten so much that it felt as if the pasta was backing up from my stomach through my throat.
In other words, I can't go very long without adult supervision.
|Notice how I ignored the corners. Because I stopped|
noticing it at least four years ago.
On the other hand, a hand that doesn't hold a paintbrush very often, painting anything other than a piece of paper falls under the category of "Things I'd rather pay someone to do but I'm too cheap to do that so I have no choice but to do these things myself."
I LACK MAD SKILLZ
One of the many reasons that most handyman tasks annoy me is that I never have the right tools, so every time I start a "job," I have to spend a ton of money at Home Depot getting the things I need just to get started.
When it comes to baking, here are some of the tools I have at hand:
- A stand mixer
- Several bowls and measuring cups
- A candy thermometer
- A well-stocked cupboard with a wide range of ingredients
|Who says I'm not organized? Who? EVERYONE!|
STAIRWAY TO HELL
Painting a simple, plain room would be difficult enough for me. The stairwell has a bunch of angles, requiring the time-consuming "cutting in" technique that I hate, and several parts are very hard to reach if you're not Shaquille O'Neal or Plastic Man. Plus, earlier I'd painted it dark blue, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but resulted in a very dark stairwell that's going to need a lot of primer. Add to that the fact that I half-assed the job the first time, and you'll start to get an idea of what I was dealing with.
|What could go wrong?|
After some initial trepidation, I began to get into a groove with the cutting in, until, after about 15 minutes...
...I fell off the ladder.
IT STILL HURTS
I didn't actually "fall off the ladder," per se, but as I stepped off the ladder, I slipped on the plastic drop cloth — which made me rue the decision to use a plastic drop cloth even though I'd lent my durable canvas drop cloth to my brother-in-law, who used it as a floor mat for his outdoor Halloween party and it was too dirty to use indoors — and landed with a dull thud with my upper half on the floor and my lower half on the stairs.
My leg felt Charley horse pain not broken leg pain, but I felt nauseated so I staggered into the bathroom for a few moments, contemplating the following:
- I was relieved that I wasn't dead or incapacitated-and-discovered-dead-later, which would result in some headline like "Police Determine Dead Man Had No Idea What He Was Doing"
- I was also relieved that I didn't die with the last sound entering my mortal ears being being "Tears Like Waterfalls" by Coldplay
Three hours later...BEHOLD!
I wanted to celebrate with a decent dinner and dessert, using the cooking and baking skills that I prefer to use. I bought a fat strip steak and five ears of corn on the cob — for eating and to use in a recipe for a sweet corn and black raspberry ice cream I planned to whip up afterward.
However, because I'm an imbecile, I left the bag containing the corn at the supermarket. (At least I didn't lose the damn steak.) So I made a bag of mixed vegetables instead.
I pan-fried the steak to a perfect medium-rare...
|The oozing red liquid is called GREATNESS.|
|The tooth, not the penny.|
That was my first day home alone. Only nine to go! Enjoy some old-school hip-hop!