Dear Martha,

The other day I washed the upper cabinets in the kitchen. I hadn't intended to, but you know how these things go, right? I began the day with the intention of making stock for turkey rice soup. Notice the word intention, it's important. Sometimes things don't go as planned, do they? Leaving the carcass to simmer in a lovely melange of carrots, celery, onion, I headed off to the grocery store for preschool snacks - I had time to kill while that lovely soup was cooking itself to golden poultry perfection.

Pondering yogurt choices, something, perhaps a smoker walking past, gave me pause to wonder. Had I turned the stove down to an actual simmer? Cute boyfriend and I wrapped up our shopping trip quickly, and headed home. I had intended to stop at Kmart to pick up a new garbage can from your oh-so wonderful selection of kitchen waste receptacles, but, Martha, I was becoming more and more convinced that the stove was turned as high as the dial could go, that my Potage au Poulet was quickly becoming Blackened Stock Pot with a side of Charred Vegetables. (I know it's dinde, technically, but isn't that alliteration great?)

Heart racing, I sped home as fast as the law abiding citizen in front of me allowed. Oh the irony of being behind a pickup truck with Volunteer Firefighter plates when you suspect your house is burning down. Leaving Daniel in the truck, Martha, I opened the door to billowing clouds of turkey scented smoke. Oh, Martha, I've never been so sorry to be right. I flipped on the exhaust fans, opened every window that opens, and heaved my stock pot into the snow pile by the front door.

Daniel and I went for a walk in the woods while the smoke cleared.

Twenty minutes later, the air was transparent again, but my oh my it stunk in here. I loaded everything washable into the dishwasher, filled the sink with water and Pine Sol and wiped down the counters and the stove. Better, but not perfect. I vaccuumed the living room, put on the bare floor attachment and did the kitchen too. Filled a bucket with hot water and more pine sol and plopped in the mop (new mop head, it's a GOOD thing!) Hmmmm... smoke goes up, right Martha? So the stink in the kitchen is on the cabinets. Well, you can see where this is going, right Martha? I did it. I washed the doors of my giant kitchen cabinets with a mop and bucket. Ceiling too, Martha. I'm not saying I'm proud of my methods, but call me Machiavelli - the ends justify the means.

The smoke smell isn't entirely gone, Martha. It kind of smells like the Boy Scouts used the mop bucket to put out the Thanksgiving campfire. And we had ham sandwiches for supper. Cold ham sandwiches.