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But It’s Just the Right Size for Soaking My Feet

I had a choice between spending $50 on a pedicure or a crock pot this weekend.  Guess which one I chose?

If you know me at all, then you probably guessed the pedicure.

But you would be wrong.

I know.  I’m staring at my yucky feet and wondering how I could have possibly made such a ridiculous impulse purchase.

This all comes from being too helpful and having a birthday.

One of the teachers at school needed a bit of technological help, so I came to her aid.  She was beating herself up about her inability to pair her iPad with her computer, so I said, “Well, I’m a horrible cook.”

This gave her the idea of “rewarding” me with 2 slow-cooker recipes that supposedly take absolutely no skill.  And one of them even includes my favorite beverage – Diet Coke.

The problem is that the only slow-cooker we have is a tiny cup-sized one we bought for heating up some special dip for which I’ve long lost the recipe.

I mentioned this to my husband, the long-suffering Cap’n Firepants.  Apparently due to his lack of appropriate nutrients, he cannot  think clearly, and he made the ill-advised suggestion that, “Maybe I should buy you a crock pot for your birthday.”

I informed him that this would be a big mistake.  But I wasn’t sure the message got through.  Kind of like the year I told him 10,000 times that I thought it was dumb to have a T.V. with a built-in DVD player, and he proudly unveiled one for me on my birthday.

So, really, I bought the crock pot to thwart myself from getting thrown in jail for mariticide, resulting in our daughter being brought up by Wonderbutt.

And this is how I ended up with a crock pot sitting in a box on the dining room table and toes that could sharpen a pencil.

I need to stop being so helpful.

crockpot

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