There is no spoon

I melted a spoon today.

Now, that can't be a sentence that has been written too often before, if at all, so let me explain. I fancied some rice for lunch so I put on a pan of water to boil whilst I was watching the end of the soccer on TV, but so engrossed in the game did I become that I completely forgot about my boiling water until my eardrums were all but burst by the smoke alarm going off (at least I now know it works).

As I turned my head away from the screen I was suddenly aware that the house had filled with smoke over the course of the second half, and after frantically scrambling upstairs to shut off the alarm I set about trying to find the source of what I thought must be a fire because, after all, there's no smoke without one. It was only when I entered the kitchen that I remembered my pan, and upon closer inspection the mystery was solved.

There had been no fire - thus disproving the maxim I referred to earlier - but for some unknown reason I had left a plastic mixing spoon in the water as it boiled (a spoon with which I eventually intended to stir my rice), and now not only was there no water left but there was no spoon either. Only the part of the handle that must have been sticking out of the pan remained, and the scene was reminiscent of one of those photos of spontaneous human combustion where all that is left of the victim is a disembodied lower leg, complete with slipper.

The rest of the spoon had totally dissolved, and I now had to run around the house opening all the windows in order to let out the resulting smoke, which I guess wasn't too toxic as I'm still here some hours later relaying the story to you. I abandoned the whole rice idea until this evening - luckily I had a back-up p(l)an - and on this occasion I didn't leave the kitchen until the whole meal was cooked and on my plate.

I think I'll stick to sandwiches from now on.