I have just caught The Husband boiling stones.
Being in the bush as we are, there is minimal food unless you bring it in, grow it, or make it yourself. The Husband likes bread. He has taken to making it. In theory we have an oven to bake it in. However, it is banjaxed, and about as warm as a sparrowfart, no matter how high you turn it up.
So far The Husband has been baking the bread in a tin pot, balanced on a metal plate, inside an empty saucepan, on top of a gas ring. ( I know, first time he did it I ran away expecting fire).
Anyway, he decided that stones would work better in the saucepan than the metal plate. So he washed the stones. But that wasn’t enough. He BOILED them. Because he thought that ‘maybe dirt and bacteria will evaporate and get into the bread’.
Now, I’m no scientist, that’s his forte. But I’m pretty sure that evaporation can only occur if there is liquid. Stones are dry, and solid. And the dough wasn’t even touching them. This is the kind of hysterical drama queen behaviour I expect of myself, not some MAN. Especially not a man whose clever scientific brain has spent the morning looking at a giant page of squiggles and dots, and seeing dam walls, spillways and construction plans, where I can only see squiggles and dots.
He has now run out of the office to check on the bread which he has left unattended back home. I vote FIRE.
He is back, smirking. Clearly no fire. But I will be right some day soon, oh yes…