Let me explain what's going on here.
You're gonna need some background.
On Will's birthday, I came up with the great idea of going out to dinner.
Will nixed the idea, deciding instead that he wanted to stay in and cook something in our new kitchen. He announced that HE WANTED TO MAKE THE DINNER!
I stated that I thought this was a terrible idea, that nobody should have to cook their own birthday dinner, but being the kind of guy who wishes for a bread machine, he thought it would be all kinds of fun and insisted on the plan.
It seemed to be going so well. Will went out shopping and came back with all sorts of things to make a Mexican dinner. He whipped up a batch of guacamole and a batch of homemade salsa, both delicious.
And then it started going downhill.
Will put Ken and I in charge of making the enchiladas.
(The enchiladas! The most important part of the meal!)
(Maybe I use the term "in charge of" a bit loosely, since Ken and I basically were assembling the enchiladas from ingredients that Will had chopped up and set out in order for us. We definitely did not have any sort of managerial role in the process.)
In any event, I was in the kitchen, cooking--this is how you know it's going to get bad--and I reached over to open a drawer. Somehow, I don't quite know how, I was stuck.
I know it doesn't look like I'm very stuck, but I was very much jammed between the drawer and the handle and could not wriggle free.
I took off my wedding ring to try to make some room, but that didn't help.
Ken got out a butter knife (because THAT'S what you want to help pry your hand free).
Will got out the camera.
(If you click, you can make these photos larger! And more dramatic!)
Several minutes later (several terrifying minutes!), I was finally released. Finally given back my sweet freedom. I have vowed never to go in the kitchen again. No good can come of it.