TMI - Too Much Information, or, why I was cleaning up tomato sauce in my bra

Why? Because we've put up eight half bushels of tomatoes so far this year, given some away, and I'm dealing with the nearly last bushel and a half today. And some inexplicable inner drive convinces me to share my stupidities.

Picture the scene: noonish, in the kitchen. Full tomato sauce production in action. Two pots on the stove have whole tomatoes boiling down to run through the food mill, the crock pot cools sauce ready to be frozen. Enter Ax with ideas of bagging cooled sauce. She has a t-shirt and baggy jeans on, eyeliner and mascara with messy hair just because it seemed like the thing to add this morning to impress the cows. She has a gallon Ziploc bag ready for sauce and begins to fill it using a cup measure. The bag holds all the sauce from the crock pot, but the last little bit needs poured into the bag. I should also mention that the bag is resting on the counter rather than securely in a bowl or measuring cup.

Is anyone still wondering why I ended up cleaning up tomato sauce in my bra?

Now, normally when I'm cleaning up spilled tomato sauce off the floor, counter and from under the dishwasher, clad in jeans ready to fall off my ass and a black bra, its a prime time for Dad, a neighbor, or Jehovah's Witnesses to come to the door. I'm at a loss for why they didn't. FYI: putting up tomato sauce works better when its in the bag and not down your t-shirt and socks.

Fucking tomatoes.