I loathe you.
And for the flour smattered all over by barely 6hr old yoga pants, I hate you too.
Cooking is like crack for me. Not that I need to do it all the time, but once I get it in my head, my brain starts spinning a million miles an hour. "Ooo, I’m hungry. I want to make that cake. R.I.G.H.T. N.O.W. But wait! I don’t have the ingredients for that. Hmm, I guess I could go to the market to buy them. But I just went to the market! It wouldn’t be efficient to drive to the market to get a couple of ingredients. Damn I wish I would have thought of that while I was at the market and I could’ve made this damn recipe! Damn, darn, dingles…
Well, let’s see what I can make with my available ingredients. I could do the cauliflower gratin but I don’t want to go through all those steps. There’s got to be something that’s quicker to make...”
And on and on it goes. By the time I’m done playing the sick mind game with myself, I could’ve gone to the market and made a recipe with 30 steps! When I finally buckle down with a recipe, and get it in the oven, the remaining mess triggers a crack addict breakdown.
"Crap! There is crap EVERYWHERE. How does this happen? It’s worse than a kid playing in a mud pit! It’s going to take me 30 minutes to clean all this crap up. Maybe I can do it in 10 minutes. If I hurry. Ok, let’s hurry.” (20 minutes go by)
“How the hell have I been cleaning for 20 minutes and I’m not even half way down! I H.A.T.E this. Ugh.”
Then I’m finished. 40 minutes later. But now I feel like I need to take a shower and I tell myself I’m NEVER going to cook again. This lasts about 3 hours. Then my body goes into withdrawals
I love you.