Why do things like this happen to me?

I'm constantly a victim of my own airheadedness. About two months ago, around the time I stopped pureeing my son's baby food, I still had my food processor out. I love that contraption. It slices, it grates, it purees, chops and stirs, and when you pop on the pitcher, it blends! Is there anything a Cuisinart can't do?

I had the lid to the food processor sitting next to the stove. Or so I thought. Apparently, it was actually on the stove. Not on a burner necessarily, but given the damage I caused, it may as well have been. I was cooking a pot of vegetables next to it and the heat melted the edge of the lid - the part that locks into the food processor's pitcher - and it melted a little 1" spot between the food pusher and the food tube.

Exhibit A:


But I didn't sweat it because hey, I was done pureeing food! I'm not planning on any more babies so I don't have to make any more baby food. I very rarely grate or slice anything in it, so no worries. Besides, I plan on coercing dropping subtle hints to get a Magic Bullet for Christmas. So I don't even need the food processor attachment anymore, right?

Wrong.

In a weak moment, I decided to make pan-fried potatoes, also known as cottage fried potatoes. As you can see, this requires thinly-sliced potatoes. My first thought? Grab the food processor! You'll be done with slicing in, like, ten seconds. So I grab the step stool and climb up to get it down from our Sasquatch Cabinets. The bottom of the cabinets is six feet high!!! Who designs cabinets like that???

Exhibit B:


Imagine my sadness and annoyance when I realize that after peeling and halving the potatoes (the point of no return; I'm now commited to some sort of pain-in-the-ass potato dish), I must slice them myself, a huge toll on my tendonitis.

Exhibit C:


So now I must slice them myself. Old School.

Exhibit D:


How did the pioneers ever do it? Okay, so my situation was small potatoes (ha ha) compared to what they dealt with, but still. I once tried scrubbing my floors on my hands and knees. I thought I'd save myself a few bucks and not buy a mop. I mean, my ancestors did it, right? Heh. I'd never make it in the Old West!