Jennifer’s husband, Michael, informed her as he dropped the singed green terrycloth into the sink and turned on the faucet. She watched steam rise from the stainless-steel basin and counted the seconds until the fire alarm would likely go off. Five, four, three, two— The blaring noise assaulted her ears. Jennifer eyed the alarm. Couldn’t be too much power left in that battery after all the use it’d been getting lately. Good thing daylight savings time was coming to an end soon. She needed an excuse to make Michael change the 9-volt. The latest problem, of course, was the toaster oven; the dish towel was merely an innocent bystander. Something invariably went wrong daily between 6:10 A.M., when Michael stepped out of his hot shower, and 7:20 A.M., when he grabbed his briefcase filled with student quizzes, his ¿Habla Español? teacher’s guide and the keys to his Toyota before heading off to work. How did she know this?
