Friday, June 30, 2006


I called Gloria on her cellphone Sunday afternoon.

"I don't want you to panic," I said, "but I'm kind of freaking out here."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well, there's something on the counter, and there's a roast and some vegetables in it, and it's warm. I think it's cooking."

"Oh, good grief. That's the crock pot."

"I guess you're not listening," I said. "Something is cooking and you're not here. Should I call 911 or the Fire Department?"

"Actually, I need you to check that and see if it needs water."

"What? What does that mean? How do I know if it needs water? Does it droop?"

"Just take the cover off and look inside."

"Take off the cover? What if there's some kind of grease fire flare-up? I'll be staggering around the kitchen with my flesh melting down my face."

"I'll take that chance," she said.

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