I just had a stick of butter explode in the microwave (it was nuked a mere 15sec!) and ooze out to grease quite a swath of floor. Uh, I'll pack some snacks; bring water & meet me at the corner.
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Been there. Six months later I was still finding pieces of broken glass. Then we moved. Coincidence?

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I'm still scarred from accidentally dropping one of those rod florescent light bulbs as a kid. Thank goodness for shop vacs.
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My son once threw up in the car, what seemed like a whole lifetimes worth of food & drink, just south of Bordeaux, on a drive back to the UK, in the middle of August. I still have nightmares!
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It's how it happens. Most walkouts have nothing to do with dramatic fights or big blow ups. It's just spaghetti sauce on the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling...


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Once I pulled a pumpkin pie from the oven and it slipped through my mits and hit the floor. Napalm pie innards exploded everywhere, painting the kitchen, and I ran screaming, flinging my pants into the air and diving into a cold shower. My husband was... surprised.
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Once Greyson threw up at least a gallon of barf all over the only carpeted room in the house after he ate a roadkill snake. I just stood there thinking, “I need an adult.”
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For complicated reasons, we had duck bones making stock in a crockpot when we had to panic-clean for the inlaws. A measuring cup fell in the crockpot & shattered, splashing greasy duck broth all over the kitchen
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Needless to say, you didn't open the door when the in-laws rang, right?

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