I’ve never known a holiday in my family to go off without a hitch; they all result in a special form of madness. This year’s Christmas get together was no different.
The pans we’d used to cook a few of the Christmas dinner dishes in had glue on the bottom, which, subsequently, burned in the oven, sending plumes of black smoke into the kitchen and living room. Dogs were barking, relatives were yelling and our Brussels sprouts and stuffing smelled and tasted like burnt plastic.
It was perfect.