You ever have one of those evenings where you just want a nice, simple dinner—and instead, you end up starring in your own episode of Kitchen Disasters: Chaotic Edition? Yeah, that was me the other night with my trusty (or so I thought) pressure cooker.

Now, let me start by saying this pressure cooker and I had an understanding. I give it beans, meat, maybe a soup or stew, and in return, it doesn’t blow up my kitchen. Pretty simple arrangement. But apparently, my cooker woke up and chose violence because halfway through making lima beans, pork tenderloin, and biscuits, this thing decided it was auditioning for the part of a steam train in a children’s cartoon.

I’m standing there watching it hiss and rattle, convinced it’s going to explode and send lima beans straight into the stratosphere. Do you know how awkward it is to mentally prepare yourself to explain to the ER nurse, “Yes, ma’am, I was taken down by a bean bomb”? Not a sentence I ever thought I’d rehearse, but there I was, running scenarios in my head.

Instead of exploding, though, my pressure cooker pulled a different stunt. It didn’t blow—it drained. Just like some moody teenager who doesn’t feel like doing chores, it let out all its water and steam in the most dramatic way possible. I swear it sighed like it was done with life. And me? I was just standing there, spatula in hand, debating whether I should unplug it, run for cover, or call a priest.

Dinner eventually got made, though it was more chaotic than planned. The lima beans survived, the pork tenderloin was fine, and the biscuits, bless them, stayed out of the drama. But the pressure cooker? Let’s just say it’s on probation. One more stunt like that, and it’s getting replaced with an old-fashioned pot and some patience.

The moral of the story? Never trust a kitchen appliance that hisses at you like an

angry cat.