Do you ever have one of those days that is just perfect? When you get it together, and you get up early, and you walk your dog and do your hair and make yourself lunch for God’s sake and put it in a pastel box that clicks together and comes with matching utensils?
Do you ever then get to later in the day and you crash your car into the side of a building that just so happens to be a daycare where your child is playing and you have to watch her dying slowly in agony while on the phone with AAA?
Yeah, me neither. This day was somewhere in between those two extremes. On the upside, thanks to some news I got today I will now be living by myself in my apartment, something that opens up very exciting, life-changing possibilities such as rearranging the kitchen, and filling up the freezer with baking experiments, and walking around more naked than my usual 99% of the time.
I was going to list the downsides of this, and why it sent me into a world of upset and stress in the middle of my first day back at work…
But honestly, I am not worried about those. This blog is for positivity. As well as for, you know, general brain barfing. That’s a technical term that means “to create beautiful art for public consumption”. It is. Look it up.
Xander said my very exciting dinner that I was so proud of last night smelled like poop and was an un-special 6 on the Yum Scale at best, and that my panini was like a heart attack. I improvised his comments on the latter based on the look on his face while biting into it. It’s exciting to realize I don’t care, though. Food is magnificent, and I’m totally stunned I’m pulling off cooking it. I’m cooking simple dinners and I feel like supergirl. Bow to me, mortals. My life skills are only just now reaching normality.
By the way, my panini was frico pumpernickel with turkey, prosciutto, and sharp cheddar cheese. Frico is when you put cheese on the outside of the brain, in between butter and pan, and skillet fry it until it’s crispy and brown and salty.
It sounds delicious but it was, indeed, like a heart attack. Whatever. Still proud. I am food goddess. Hear me fry cheese.
Oh, and I’ll add pictures later when I’m not regretting staying up to watch that absolutely horrendous first episode of Sherlock Season 3. I just… I can’t. What was that. I just cannot.
Stay tuned– I’m doing a whole post on the cobblers I made. Look at me, I’m practically Betty Crocker. If Betty Crocker made chicken that smelled like poop which, let’s face it, she probably did.