I set the lid on the counter.
I guess it was too close to the edge, because seconds later...
That would be pieces of glass. ALL OVER THE KITCHEN.
"This is why I HATE COOKING!" I shouted.
"Are you okay? What was that?" Tom answered from the living room.
"I hate cooking!" I repeated, stomping over to grab the broom.
Tom came in the kitchen. He saw the spray of glass. "If you didn't like the lid, you could have told me. I'd have bought you a new one."
"Ha. Did I tell you that I HATE COOKING?"
Tom took the broom. "Chill. This might be a sign that we need to go out to eat."
He's always hoping we can go out to eat. Some women might be insulted by this. "He doesn't like my cooking!" but I know my meals aren't always the greatest.
"We're not going out to eat. I have chicken marinating."
"Aw." Tom helped me clean up. When we were done he was all, "You SURE you don't want to go out? I can see you're upset.."
If it didn't cost money, of course I'd rather go out, but we have these things called bills.
So I'll continue to cook and break (and burn) things and curse about it.
It's just what I do.