Comedy of Errors

The other night I came home to some sick kids.  Three of them were down with a stomach virus.  Mom was in high demand and short supply.  So she's up and down the stairs doctoring one kid, cleaning up another.  I'm in charge of dinner and we don't seem to have anything to eat.  Kim had already defrosted some chicken breast so that's what was to be cooked.  We didn't have much pasta, our normal default dinner, but we did have one can of red sauce.  I started looking up a recipe from the sauce maker and then I went over to the stove top.  Our stove has a microwave built into the vent hood.  Being as tall as I am, it kind of blocks my view.  Since I wanted to cut up something, I wanted to be sure that the burner wasn't on, or still hot.  Most of the kitchen space was cluttered up because of all the rush that three sick kids brings on so I had to use the stovetop.  Normally I check out the little light that says if it's hot, but I couldn't see it because I was too close and the microwave was in my way.  I'm just too tall.  So what did I do?  I felt the stovetop with my fingers.  The burners are under glass so you can't tell how hot they are.  I burned my three middle fingers on my left hand, burned them enough to blister them.  I'm surprised I still have fingerprints.  My oldest was trying to be a minimalist about helping for dinner as he had a really good book to read.  So in between cooking something new from a recipe at the last minute, helping out with three very ill kids, barking at my oldest to get off the couch again, and directing the older two girls to set the table, I tried to soak my fingers in ice water and then slathered them with burn cream.  We eventually did eat (those of us with stout enough stomachs) and it was pretty good.  I did have to ask for help cutting my meat though.