I have no oven mitts.
When I moved into this house two years ago, I unpacked a shipment coming from the UK and I know I unpacked a set of oven mitts.
A week after I received my UK shipment, the container that was in storage from our stint in the USA arrived and I’m sure from those boxes I also unpacked two sets of oven mitts.
I also clearly remember last summer, when our town was having a midnight madness event, I found the nicest fabric set of oven mitts on sale at a cute little country store downtown and I bought those too.
That's what? Four sets? Eight mitts?
So, why when I went to take a sheppard’s pie out of the oven last night and a baked macaroni and cheese out of the oven tonight was I using a tea towel?
Where the heck are my oven mitts? I have a burn on my finger now and it hurts.
Yes, I am whining.
But, who took my oven mitts? Why would anyone possible want my oven mitts and what could my family possibly be doing with my oven mitts?
Maybe this is my kid’s way of telling me to stop cooking.
It might work.