Myriad kaleidoscopic moldy stuff

The amusing MinM tagged me to come clean on domestic horror stories...
I have been racking my brains ever since.

Do i write...

--about the time i served half cooked food to TB's childhood friends?- or does that fall under the genre of torture?- Out of sheer politeness they ate it. Never came home for 4 years after that and when the finally did, told me to order out. They refused to believe i actually figured out how to check if puttu was cooked or not. Sigh!

-- or about the time i dutifully kept the fairly stocked up fridge ON during a week long vacation, and promptly switched OFF the mains?
If y'all haven't faced 8 day heavily fermented dosa batter.....it's a loss. Trust me. It took two hours to get the crusty, foamy stuff out of the trays, two days to get the smell out of the fridge and 2 years to get it out of my psyche!

--More entertaining would be the descriptions of the myriad kaleidoscopic moldy bottles that my mother fishes out of my refrigerator crevices ( Trust me- they are never there when i look!). The patterns and colours on them are pretty intricate and amusing at times...though my mother does not appreciate my interest in mould cultivation.

-- Or about our Sofa....the day it goes for refurbishing, quarantine will be declared.

Instead...here is a domestic disaster..well, almost.

--Circa 2001. We the "DINK" couple are having the time of out lives in namma bengalooru. Then who else lands in the town to spice up our lives- none other than " Bryan Adams".

A huge bunch of friends decided to land up there, and plan and plot the POA ..the venue is in one end of town and we need to leave early...so we breeze through the day...park ourselves right in front in the hot sun...wait endlessley for the man to begin.

Finally he comes on stage in pristine white with " B A D" written across his tee and starts off with " The best of me"...
He played non stop... "Everything I Do", "Please Forgive Me" and "I Am Ready". Then came- "18 Till I Die", "Run To You", "Cuts Like A Knife" and "Summer Of '69"- I was on cloud number nine when realization hit me with a mallet.

I HAD LEFT THE GAS BURNER ON WITH THE CURRY IN THE PRESSURE COOKER!!!

I died.

I have no memories of the next few hours...there was no way we could get out of a crowd of 40, 000 people.I cried- literally. The crowd thought it was sheer fanatism!!!I was worried my kitchen would have blown apart- there would be cops waiting for us when we get home. I was going to be gulity for the entire building gutting.

The show ended in 15 minutes- it took us one hour to get our car out of the parking, and another hour to reach home. It was 2 am and the entire nighbourhood was quite...i was too scared to enter our lane- wondering what awaited us. There was nothing! We quietly walked up in darkness and opened our door...the entire house smelled of gas, and burnt food. In the dark we opened the windows and waited to the smell to go away before turning on any light...i tip toed over to the burner and found my pressure cooker intact...the cylinder had run out of gas!!

I can't even begin to describe the relief .
The pressure cooker , however had to be salvaged and the black crusty burnt stuff took a day of soaking to come off.

I have never, never left the house without checking the switches and burner henceforth!.

Here MinM...tag done.