And then I spilled lentils everywhere because I was trying to get them out of the plastic bag (not the melted one. That was oatmeal at breakfast.) using a measuring cup that's for liquids, because it was already dirty, rather than getting out a measuring scoop.
About three minutes after that, I found myself asking him if he had any guesses what an underripe cauliflower might look like. We ate it anyway. It was fine.
This is why the baby watches me in the kitchen from the hallway. It's also why the dog runs out every time I open a cabinet or do anything else that leads her to believe she might be in danger. She comes back because it's just as likely that I'm going to drop food as knives.
I think, at this point, it is important to remember how far I've come. I logged in to the old blog to learn I wrote 1506 posts over there, and found the one I was searching for. Let's revisit, shall we?
I think my favorite part is "Saturday afternoon when I woke up". Even with that, you couldn't pay me to be 22 again.
April 22, 2002
Mary Makes Breakfast
I say I can't cook. People say "Anyone who can read can cook. Follow the directions." I say "My problem is more fundamental than that." They shake their heads in disbelief. This is the true story of what I went through to get breakfast Saturday afternoon when I woke up.
Step One: Picking out the food
Wander into kitchen.
Open freezer. Realize freezer is completely empty. Decide to fill the ice cube trays at least. Look at sink overfull with dishes. Make mental note to refill ice cube trays someday when the dishes are washed.
Open fridge. Look at pickles. Wonder if the condiments get lonely by themselves. Decide that they are probably a clique and are mean to the new foods that come in since they know either they will be gone in a day or will meet their end in a slow painful fashion on the shelf. Remember that the goal was to make and eat breakfast. Opt not to eat pickles for breakfast. Shut fridge door.
Stare at first cabinet. Note that you could conceivably eat spaghetti-os or vegetarian vegetable soup for breakfast since it is four o'clock in the afternoon. Decide that you just woke up for the day and ought to eat something breakfast-y. Stare at bakers rack. See bagels. See peanut butter. See strawberry cinnamon honey. You've found breakfast.
Step Two: Toasting the bagel
Check setting on toaster. Decide it's too low cause you want a toasty bagel. Turn up toaster. Put bagel in toaster. Push lever down. Wait ten seconds. Bagel pops out. Obviously bagel barely began to toast, so you put the bagel back into the toaster. Repeat three times. Make mental note to find the toaster a better home than back in the corner on the floor next to the stove behind the desk. Push the lever down one more time with feeling. It takes.
Step Three: Adding the toppings
Bagel pops up. Note that you turned down the setting on the toaster because of the false start problem. Bagel is charred, but salvageable. Turn down the toaster in hopes that next time you won't turn it back up.
Run and dig a knife out of the pile of dirty dishes. Wonder if you really have to wash them before you can move. Decide you do. Wash and dry knife.
Find peanut butter. Stare at container, looking for instructions about whether this should have been in the fridge all this time. Wonder if when you open it, there will be things growing inside. Find nothing about refrigeration. Open peanut butter. It looks good.
Apply peanut butter liberally to bread. Curse when it starts to melt and becomes hard to spread. Remember that there are no paper towels in the house. Wash peanut butter off of counter and hands.
Grab honey. Examine honey. Honey is solid. The lid is on. Wonder what happened to the honey. Resolve to ask everyone until someone can tell you what went wrong. Throw honey away.
Step Four: Eating the bagel
Take bagel into living room. Realize peanut butter is dripping everywhere. Remember again that you have no paper towels. Attempt to eat bagel. Pause halfway through when phone rings. Go to bathroom, wash hands, face and arms the are covered in peanut butter. Return to bagel. Watch as bagel drips onto legs and cat. Stop eating again. Wash hands, legs, arms, and face before attempting to handle the cat. Watch as cat gets peanut butter in your hair. Curse cat. Leave him to run away with a big blob of peanut butter on the top of his head. Return to bagel.
All the peanut butter is gone. It fell out. All that is left is a slimy, cold, burnt bagel. Give up. Be glad you made something you could eat more than half of.