I'm just getting into the swing of going back to work, after 75 days on lockdown. So, as is my custom, I made a breakfast wrap this morning, took it into the living room to catch the weather and traffic (which is still blessedly light). When I was finished, I took my plate to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee for the road and left.

I got to work and thought, did I leave the stove on? No, couldn't have. I'd have smelled scorched skillet while I was eating and watching the tube. After work I went to the grocery store, picked up a few things and went home. I let me dog out and went to stand in front of the fridge to put away the groceries and felt the heat radiating from the front burner, skillet still on it.

A horrified glance at the knob confirmed, yes, Ray, you Red Forman grade dumbass, you left the stove on. Fortunately the burner was on the lowest setting and the skillet was a carbon steel pan. Which I may or may not have enthused about here. The pan was like, "What? That's all you got?" I may have taken some working life off that burner, which probably was not rated for nine-ish hours of continuous use.

Fuck.