Grave of the Teapots
Apr. 4th, 2003 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tmcgThe first teapot I had in this house was metal, and built up a truly bizarre form of corrosion. Many more metallic trace elements than my diet called for. I kept using it anyway, until my significant other got totally grossed out.
The next was Pyrex. A feline event precipitated its violent expulsion from the rangetop and relocation to the floor. Gravity assist. The "deci" in "decimation" is not a big enough number.
The next was metal again, for reduced breakability. I really don't remember what happened to that one. It's just gone. Does St. Peter have it? Why did we always say, when I was a kid, that anything missing was with St. Peter? St. Peter has not only that teapot but also a large number of unpaired socks, the really good steak knife, a cabbage my mom was cooking once that was simply no longer in the pot (no explanation ever discovered), and Butchy Boo Baby.
The next two teapots--Pyrex again--went the way of the forgetfulness that inexorably leads to empty-pot-on-flame. To their credit, they didn't crack. That wasn't the problem. What happened was, the plastic whistler pourspout-lid thingies melted into the pots. It was fascinating effect, like sculpture, a frozen drip. In fact, they looked remarkably like the pitch drop experiment. I saved one of them as an objet d'art, but St. Peter took it.
This last time, I went back to metal. And yesterday the spring popped right out of the thing you push down to open the lid on the pourspout. Now when you push down to pour the water, the expected resistance of the spring is not there, and the lid flips up with alarming violence. To nerves already frayed by a recent unprovoked attack of the Screaming Bungee Monkey, this can be debilitating.
Given the fates of the other pots, given that the current one is still functional, and given the absence of sufficiently destruction-proof commercial-teapot materials, I'm afraid to get a new one.
Maybe I'll just boil water in the little saucepan from now on....
The next was Pyrex. A feline event precipitated its violent expulsion from the rangetop and relocation to the floor. Gravity assist. The "deci" in "decimation" is not a big enough number.
The next was metal again, for reduced breakability. I really don't remember what happened to that one. It's just gone. Does St. Peter have it? Why did we always say, when I was a kid, that anything missing was with St. Peter? St. Peter has not only that teapot but also a large number of unpaired socks, the really good steak knife, a cabbage my mom was cooking once that was simply no longer in the pot (no explanation ever discovered), and Butchy Boo Baby.
The next two teapots--Pyrex again--went the way of the forgetfulness that inexorably leads to empty-pot-on-flame. To their credit, they didn't crack. That wasn't the problem. What happened was, the plastic whistler pourspout-lid thingies melted into the pots. It was fascinating effect, like sculpture, a frozen drip. In fact, they looked remarkably like the pitch drop experiment. I saved one of them as an objet d'art, but St. Peter took it.
This last time, I went back to metal. And yesterday the spring popped right out of the thing you push down to open the lid on the pourspout. Now when you push down to pour the water, the expected resistance of the spring is not there, and the lid flips up with alarming violence. To nerves already frayed by a recent unprovoked attack of the Screaming Bungee Monkey, this can be debilitating.
Given the fates of the other pots, given that the current one is still functional, and given the absence of sufficiently destruction-proof commercial-teapot materials, I'm afraid to get a new one.
Maybe I'll just boil water in the little saucepan from now on....
