I could seriously write a whole book about all the catastrophes that have happened to me in the various kitchens I've had my whole life. I can remember incidents I've had in my mom and dad's kitchen and every place I've lived since. The main issue in my current kitchen has been the breaking of darn near every dish I own. I can't believe there's anything left to break, but sure enough, I dropped a glass measuring cup on the tile, and it shattered all over the place. Of course I was in a hurry, and Sarah was in the kitchen helping me cook. I had a pot of shrimp tails and other goodies boiling on the stove to make stock.
I have broken so many things in the last 2 years in this kitchen that Sarah knows the routine. She froze and waited for me to sweep up all the glass shards. I scooped her up and put her in the pantry to get the linguini noodles. While I was down on the floor picking up glass, the pot on the stove boiled over and started spitting boiling hot stock all over me. Right then Sarah yells from the pantry that we don't have linguini noodles. I was doing ninja moves, trying to turn off the burner while avoiding the splattering hot liquid and sharp glass, and I told her to just get spaghetti noodles. The hood vent is on, and it's loud and chaotic, so this communication takes several tries. A few minutes later, she yells that there's no spaghetti noodles either. I told her to just grab whatever long, skinny noodles she could find and hurry up about it. She said, "We have 5 boxes of rotini, 2 boxes of macaroni, and that's it!" I've never used rotini for shrimp scampi, but I figured pasta is pasta, and it worked. We scarfed it down, and Noah and I rushed out for martial arts, leaving Mike to do a fast cleanup before he had to take off for somewhere else. I guess those five or ten minutes we were sitting at the table together counts as a family meal?