Horses, not Zebras

There is a saying if you hear hoof beats think horses, not zebras. Of late I have seen this reference on the show House (of which I am enamored inspite of, or perhaps because of, it's incredible lack of reverence) and on an email list I am on.

I had a "think horses" moment this morning. Let me preface this by saying I am sick, my head a tad stuffed and hence thinking might be convoluted.

Rather suddenly, it seemed, pockets of aroma near the kitchen but apparently more like just down the stairs from there a smell of something scorching or beginning to burn. I wandered into the garage, no the mystery odor disappeared there. The laundry area - again nothing of note. But then I thought "Oh no! What about that door to under the house where the furnace and water heater live?". I turn to unlock the door, only I can't. So pressing my nose to the tiny crevice between the door and it's jamb - quite a feat as the space is ever so tiny and my nose far from what anyone would call petite. But I do not detect the aroma of danger, which continues to be fleeting, from this space. However I remain concerned that I cannot unlock the door. I push and pull trying to find the magic place that will allow me to unlock, no success. So I make a mental note that this must be taken care of soon because, what if we need to get down there for a real smoke emergency? Or more likely one of the kittens find themselves there and cannot figure out how to emerge from the multitude of escape routes perfectly suited to cat's sizes but not our size.

Returning to the kitchen, I have my horses moment. The smell is distinctly worse and I realize it is the Pumpkin Teabread (love this book!) I put in the toaster. I am not certain why it cause so much of a ruckus to my nasal passages or let off a faint cloud of smoke in my kitchen but there you have it. Burnt pumpkin bread which I put in the toaster. NOT electrical, not spontaneous combustion somewhere in my home. Yet another reason to purchase a toaster oven sooner rather than later.

I retrieved my bread with the use of tongs (Hi Jennie) and by way of turning the damn toaster upside down when said tongs did not remove the second piece. Placing the pieces, or rather remains of my bread on a plate I layer some thin deliciously mild slices of Spring Hill's Jersey Jack. While munching on the bread and sipping my second cup of coffee, TGF looks over at me (she also has this cold) and asks, "Is something burning?"