Today I blew up a dish.

I am a pretty smart girl. I just don't always have a whole lot of common sense. For example; since I have moved home I have been cooking a lot. I'm thinking that I'll be married eventually, with a family, and I really should learn how to cook beyond mac & cheese and boxed brownies while my parents are buying all the ingredients. Anyway, I moved home the second week of March and since then I have ruined three dishes.

The first dish was a large glass platter. I was making something in a huge skillet and I couldn't find a lid big enough to cover it. The recipe said "cover 10-12 minutes, stirring occasionally." So I saw the platter and covered it with that. I had used plates as lids in the past and never had a problem so I didn't even think about it. That is, until I heard a sound like a gun shot echo through my kitchen! I screamed and then realized that I'd split the platter right down the middle.

The second was the crockpot stonewear. My recipe called for searing a roast over oil heated to medium-high. I was cooking the roast in the crockpot stonewear in the oven so I just put it on the stove. Again, the sound like a gun shot as a large crack appeared down the side and through half the bottom of the dish. Damn it.

Now, while I am sure the first and second dishes were the direct result of my own stupidity, I'm not sure that the third one was, although it was the most dramatic by far.
I was making biscuits this morning. I was supposed to put the biscuits in a round baking dish. So I looked through my cupboard and found one. I looked on the bottom, which read "Oven and Microwave Safe". Wonderful! I baked my biscuits on 450 for about nine minutes and when they were golden brown I took them out and set them on top of the stove. Then I began cleaning up a bit to give the biscuits time to cool down before I removed them. Suddenly there was a huge crash! and something hit my foot. I jumped and came down on something sharp. I looked toward the stove and there were my biscuits over a pile of shattered glass. I was totally surrounded on the floor too, and barefoot (don't worry, I didn't cut myself badly at all).
Henry came over and swept up for me so that I could move. Then I cleaned off the stove. I don't really know what I did wrong this time. Henry said it must of just cooled down too fast... ?

Whatever, I'm not really the sharpest crayon in the box ya know? I should probably move out and start buying my own dishes before I ruin all of my parent's cooking things though... at least I haven't melted any spatulas yet.