The Misadventures of the Hapless Housewife

So, Hubby grilled some pork ribs for our life group on Sunday. They were really quite good. But before grilling them, he removed the top rack (for buns and such) because it had been neglected for a while and was quite dirty.

Yesterday morning, there it still sat. I had run it through the dishwasher to get any loose grime off (and on the sanitizer cycle, cause, well... you didn't see it). But it was still pretty built up. So I used an old trick. I sprayed it down with oven cleaner. Of course, before I did that, I laid out some foil to protect my table. I didn't want to put it outside because the rain has been coming in spurts lately and I figured that was the best spot. We don't have the most fantabulous dining table. It will become the crafting table once we purchase another one. Actually, it already is the crafting table and looks it.

As I was working on other things, I kept noticing that it sounded like Rice Krispies in there. It always does at first but then it gets all quiet as it works on all that baked on crud. But 30 minutes later, I noticed I was still hearing the snap, crackle, pop. I thought "Man! That stuff was baked on worse than I thought." And, of course, I congratulated myself on thinking to use it before it got any worse.

Now I've cleaned my oven (and even grill grates) with no problems or stains or emergency vehicles before -- other than inhaling the fumes on occasion. Maybe that's what happened actually. Maybe I've inhaled one too many fumes. Because I would have sworn that can said to lay down foil or newspaper to protect surfaces.

And when I went in there to check on it, there was NO foil. Oh, there was a little around the edges and some little confetti pieces mixed in with some pretty nasty looking foam, but the foil was gone. The oven cleaner ATE my foil!

It was completely gone in the center where most of the spray had pooled. I was pretty sure the table was going to be worse now.

After I moved the grate onto some newspaper, I grabbed up the foil, crumbled it up and threw it in the trash can. Then I vaguely remembered that you were supposed to wear gloves when cleaning it up so I began vigorously washing my hands.

When I turned off the water, I distinctly heard crackling. I turned around to see a thin plume of smoke rising out of my TRASHCAN! So again, I grabbed the edge of the foil, and in a move of pure genius, I'm sure, threw it onto the concrete patio where it could harm me no more.

But did I put on gloves first? No, so here we go with the hand washing again. Then I realized the stuff was still sitting on my table top. I cleaned it up as fast as I could. It wasn't hurt... at all... so, you know, no excuse to buy a nice new table. hmph. However, I didn't wear gloves that time either so guess what I did next.

That's right. I checked the can so I could yell at somebody. Except that in the time it took for my adventure, someone had changed it to read that you should put newspapers down. Nothing about foil there.

So what's the moral of the story: no more grilling ribs for life group. It's just too dangerous.

Oh. And I might start reading the directions a little more carefully.

Then again, what's the point? If they're just going to change them on you when something goes wrong.