Attack of the Killer Flaxseed

Those who truly know me know that I am often the master of the disaster—things just seem to jump out of bowls and off tables… explode in a cloud or break with a crash. Usually, I cannot explain how these things happen—they just do. So, it really wasn’t a big surprise when the Attack of the Killer Flaxseed occurred this weekend.

The wife was out of town this particular Saturday (probably a very good thing, considering what was to transpire). I myself was getting to go out of town with some friends and wanted to make a bowl of oatmeal with flaxseed before leaving. (Hey, I’m really serious about this lowering cholesterol thing. But, don’t be fooled—I also put a square of Dove Dark Chocolate in there.) So, I get the one-minute oatmeal a-nuking in the microwave while I get the flaxseed out of the refrigerator....

For those of you who are not familiar with flaxseed, I will describe it to you: the ground stuff looks like sawdust; the seeds actually look like sesame seed kind of seeds.  

The stuff I have in this particular tub is a mixture of both—I’ve ground some into sawdust and left some seedy. I keep it in a big Tupperware bowl in the frig—I’m not sure it needs to be refrigerated, but it seems like a good thing to do, so in there it stays.

The microwave chimes and lets me know the oatmeal is done (for once, I have not exploded it all over the inside of the microwave—that’s always fun to clean) and thus I go to open the flaxseed container.

You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?

 

As I open the top, the lid gets stuck just long enough for me to have to struggle with it and then it goes F….L…..Y….I….N….G off into the air.  

It’s in slow motion.  

The lid flies off, the tub is in the air and me?  

I’m going into the “ooooo-o-o-o-oh noooooooo” mode. 

Despite my valiant albeit non-sporty efforts, the flaxseed container hits the edge of the counter, bounces off into the air and hits the ceramic tile with a sick splash.

Flaxseed EVERYWHERE.

Now, I know some of you are thinking that there is an exaggeration factor to this story. I am here to tell you there is NO exaggeration. You cannot imagine how far or how fast those flaxseeds went flying. I mean they were under the microwave, under the stove, on the refrigerator, on my feet, on all the kitchen rugs, under the baker’s rack, in the dog bowls, under the kitchen table and heading toward the lower level stairs. Flaxseed everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

Those of you who know the wife know that she will NOT be entertained.

I stand there for a minute, weighing my options. I’m not sure how to approach this project and I do not have the expertise of the wife at hand. Lucy has now entered the kitchen and has begun to eat the flaxseed. I shoo her out and decide to start with the vacuum. 

This turns out to be a bad idea, as the flaxseeds end up shooting backwards as the vacuum brushes spin and the flaxseeds get stuck on the vacuum wheels. This means I have to stop and clean each wheel, one by one. This takes quite a bit of effort as flaxseeds have gotten into the inside rim of the wheels.

I go get my “Shark” vacuum thingy as I figure I have better odds with this. In some ways, this is true. Little golden flakes of seeds go sucking into the Shark, but it is not able to complete the job and I can seek a think layer of flaxseed fluff all over the counters. Damn. 

This is war. I pull out the big guns: “Cinch.”

The wife is in love with “Cinch.” She uses it on everything—the counters, the furniture, the floor, the sinks, the appliances, the dogs, me….there is nothing Cinch cannot do. Paper towels in hand, I try out the Cinch. While it is helpful on the counters, it’s too time consuming on the floor. So, I use a towel and water method but the seeds don’t seem to stick very well. It’s kind of like I’m pushing sawdust around.

I take the rugs outside and shake them out. Seeds speckle the snow. I turn back and see Lucy licking the floor again. Although I know it is not a good thing, I am thankful for her help, as it’s one less spot I have to clean.

It comes down to picking up the seeds, one by one.

 

This sucks. 

After about 30 minutes, I come to the conclusion I have done my best and will just have to leave the rest to the professional cleaner, Queen of Cinch. I write a note about the incident, kiss the dogs good bye and hope for the best.

I am happy to report that the wife survived the flaxseed invasion and although she says she spent an hour cleaning, she insists she would not have noticed the mess "at least not right away" had I not left her the note. 

I take this as a sign of great victory.  

Rock on, Cinch!