When I woke up this Sunday morning I decided (finally) that I wanted pancakes made from scratch. My version of scratch. So after I washed last nights’ dirty dishes I reached for the unopened box that contained a small electric griddle. I had bought it on Amazon probably two years ago, but I’m slow that way about using new “power tools.” I read the little manual, washed it to remove whatever manufacturing dust might be on it. Attached the handles. And then the poop hit the fan so to speak. I went to the pantry to retrieve the box of pancake mix and read through the directions. Milk, it said…