Decided to grill out for dinner last week.

Which may very well be the last time such a thought pops into my head. Ever.

Dinner was good, chicken breasts that had been brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with seasoning. I even managed to keep the corners from getting too black and crunchy, something the boys call ‘crispy burnt.’ There’s a lot going on during the dinner prep hour, if you think about it. Kids in and out of the house, the dog wanting to take care of business, phone ringing, etc had me focused about 30-percent on the grill.

Imagine my surprise when the meal still turned out great, no crispy burnt pieces thank you very much, and I was quite the proud chef as I turned off the tank and attempted to the shut the lid.

Attempted. As in, it wouldn’t close.

Turns out, in my rush to whip up our meal, I didn’t move the grill far enough away from the house. So, visualize the lid melted to the siding of our home. While you’re at it, visualize Greg’s face when he observed the damage.

I was somehow able to visualize the number for the local pizza place, should I ever get the idea to grill again.

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