Disposing of Evidence Is Not His Strong Suit

You remember Thevictorians had their Easter feast on Saturday, right? So yesterday, on real Easter, we had leftovers.

Hick took off for parts unknown Sunday morning, The Pony set up his experiment for the upcoming junior college science fair, and I lolled about in the La-Z-Boy letting my aching bones recover from my 8 hours of cooking on Saturday. Around about 2:30, I found Hick sitting on the porch watching The Pony measure water flowing through different types of soil. Since none of us had eaten lunch, I offered to warm the leftovers so we could have lupper. That meant they should abandon all hope for eating supper. They took the bait, and I rummaged around up to my elbows in Frig II until I had all the fixin's.

To warm our delicacies in the oven, I selected four foil pans that I've accumulated from serving Sister Schubert's Parker House Style Dinner Rolls. They look like foil cake pans. The food warms quickly, and doesn't stick to the pan. Plus, they're light and easy to wash. Yes. I think of it as re-purposing.

I had four pans going. One actually had rolls in it, one was for ham and bacon green bean bundles, one was for the hash brown casserole, and the other was for the carrot/onion/potato veggies cooked in the ham. Everything was just as delicious the second day. Hick agreed to put away the leftover leftovers once they cooled down. I went off about my business in my dark basement lair, then watched All-Star Academy on Food Network with The Pony before bed. Then I fell asleep in the recliner.

When I ascended to the main floor at midnight, I saw that the kitchen was cleaned up. Nothing on the stove. Nothing on the counter except half the contents of the silverware drawer. I opened Frig II to see if Hick had put the leftover leftovers away. Indeed, he had. He used the leftover disposable (yeah, right) plastic containers that I bought Friday for Genius to take back food.

Something was wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Something amiss. My midnight mind was not picking up what my sixth sense was laying down. I plugged in my cell phone to charge on the kitchen counter. SISTER SCHUBERT! Where were my foil warming pans?

I looked in Frig II again. Nope. I looked at the bare stove. Nope. Beside the dirty silverware on the counter next to the sink. Nope. WHAT'S THAT? A glint. Shiny. From the depths of the tall kitchen trash can that resides under the counter in the alcove reserved for a dishwasher. SISTER SCHUBERT! In the wastebasket! I grabbed her out and looked for her three fellow quadruplets. Oh no he didn't! I moved some paper towels and three Styrofoam platters that we had used to eat our leftovers off of. There were the other three foil pans, stacked one in the other, at the very bottom of the black trash bag lining the wastebasket.

NOOOOO!

I pulled them out and put them beside the sink. This morning at 4:50 a.m., I ran a sink full of hot water and Dawn Hawaiian Pineapple scent dishwashing liquid. I gently bent my pans back into shape.

The perpetrator was apprehended by Detective Val at 5:30 a.m.