Y’all ain’t gonna believe this.

So, you know how yesterday I was telling you about dropping 500 horseshoe nails in the floor? And how I compared it to dropping toothpicks?

Well.

I’m in the kitchen, fixin’ spaghetti, the aroma of onions & garlic filling the air, pasta bubbling away on the stove. I go to get the Italian seasoning out of the cabinet. This would be the cabinet above the stove, crammed with all manner of spices, excess olive oil, Crisco, & whatnot.

It happened so suddenly, I’m not sure what happened.

I’m standing there, toothpicks raining down around me, when Johnny appears from the basement with the garlic bread I had requested from the chest freezer.

I stood paralyzed. They were everywhere: in my hair, on the stove, scattered all over the floor, IN THE PASTA.

I sprang into action, frantically scooping them out with a spaghetti fork.

Did you know toothpicks float? Well, you do now.

About that time, I smelled something burning. I hadn’t put the bread in yet (that’s what I typically burn) so it couldn’t be that.

There were several charred toothpicks lying under the eye. I turned the burner off, moved the pot, & turned the blower on, sucking away the smoke that was making my eyes water.

I think this catastrophe was somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 toothpicks. I bought one of those containers from Cracker Barrel that holds 350 eons ago, & use maybe a dozen a year.

I’ll have you know I didn’t say a single bad word…until I dropped my garlic bread in the floor.

It’s all true. Ask Shug.