Robert woke me up this morning asking if someone had pooped their pants. I replied that I didn't think so. He kept smelling something REALLY bad. I have a poor sense of smell, especially with allergies this time of year, so I didn't smell much of anything. I went down the hall and did smell something faintly burning. The Littles were up and Robert and I walked downstairs to investigate.
As I was alking downstairs, McCartney says, "Harrison did try to make a donut." Odd, we don't have donuts. . .
Robert found the microwave still on with 41 minutes and 51 seconds left on the timer. Inside he found this . . .
I asked McCartney to show me what it started out as and she opened the freezer and showed me a bag of small hamburger patties. Hard telling how long it took to reduce the patty to this.
No wonder it smelled like decomposing flesh. My house still stinks, but the microwave still works!
Seventeen years, seventeen stories.
5 hours ago