She would have been justified to lecture me or to demand that I clean up the mess I’d created.īut she did none of that. After all, I had ignored her warning and destroyed her favorite cookware. She had every right to be upset and to feel frustrated with me. The most amazing part of this story was that Erin didn’t say a word in response to my bungle.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to use cold water,” I said with a sheepish grin. I looked at Erin, who stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. All that was left was a handle (which I was still holding) and a 12-inch metal ring rolling to a stop at the bottom of the sink. It sounded like gunfire, but instead of diving to the ground, I just froze, staring in disbelief at the wreckage around me. All I remember was hearing a loud popping sound and then glass was raining down everywhere. One moment I was rolling my eyes at Erin’s nerve to tell me how to clean up, and the next moment I thought I’d just been shot.Īs soon as I ran cold water over the hot lid, the glass exploded. I know how to wash dishes without instructions!Īnd then everything went chaotic. Immediately, from across the kitchen, Erin yelled, “Make sure that you don’t run cold water over the lid!” After the chicken was a savory golden-brown and placed on a platter, I removed the skillet and lid from the stove and placed them in the sink. I was using Erin’s favorite cookware: a skillet and glass lid that she’d had for years.
Recently I was helping my wife, Erin, cook a family meal.
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