So, a few weeks back I tweeted something to the effect of: I hit myself in the face with a can of beans if you’d like to feel better about your day.
It had happened by sheer luck and physics that I smacked my jaw with a can of beans in a bag from the grocery store.
Apparently beans talk, because their cousins got revenge today.
I bought a HUGE can of beans- the 7.5lb can of beans to be exact- to make for a thing we are doing this weekend. I needed to make enough to feed 25 people.
So I got a can of beans the size of Lucy’s head.
That should be enough.
I got home, got the kids unloaded, and like any red-blooded American, I wasn’t going to dare make two trips into my house to bring in all of the groceries. So I was loading myself down. I had bags up to my elbows on one side and only 1 bag in the other.
The double-bagged can of beans.
I’m not sure how it did it, how it managed to pull this off… But it broke free. It heard what I said. It knew I degraded beans on the Internet. So, it struck out for revenge, and boy oh boy, did it prevail.
It broke free of its double cell, and plummeted swiftly to my big toe.
I dropped every bag in my hands, and gasped for air. I don’t cuss, but even if I did I don’t think I could have found the words. No words escaped me. Just moans from the depths of my broken soul, my broken-toed soul.
I didn’t even care if my milk had exploded or landed on my hamburger buns. Thankfully neither of those events occurred. I hadn’t shamed milk before. It had no reason to betray me.
I had shamed beans.
And they got their sweet, sweet barbecue revenge.
I had to take my gel polish off to asses the damage.
I will call this “The Summer of Closed Toed Shoes.”
Now off to make a batch of the tastiest, meanest baked beans you’ve ever had.