I just found this roasting pan (absolutely eligible for a middle school chemistry project) in my oven, where I seem to have stashed it two weeks ago. The counter was crowded and I was preparing dinner.
Bet you’ve done that, haven’t you. Come on . . .
You can have wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, or democracy. But you cannot have both.
That’s where I store mine intentionally. I do try to wash it first.
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See . . . I always knew you were a better woman than me.
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Perhaps I just have a smaller kitchen!
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I’m afraid to ask — what was in the roasting pan?
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I can’t tell . . . 😆
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Don’t tell me….
I’m scared!
He, he, he
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😆 I once put the roasting pan from Christmas’ goose out in the back courtyard before dinner so as to get it out of the way. Except I forgot about it; it snowed non-stop for a couple of months; and I didn’t see it again until spring.
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Much better than stashing it in a warm place . . .
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I have never done that but then you knew that, didn’t you.
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I did.
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