I will never again imagine myself capable of making anything even so un-complex as toast ever again. Really. If I ever so much as mention a desire to cook for myself, shoot me.Shoot me, I beg of you! It’s less painful. Indeed, I have never been fond of cooking or even fancied myself a good cook. Eating– that’s my thing. So why I decided to make myself something to eat instead of just getting off my rear end and buying something safe to eat is as much a mystery to me as anyone else.
At 4 o’ clock this evening I rummaged my fridge and found a couple of biscuits (why couldn’t I have just settled for these?!) and some cabbage and a few onions. Then I proceeded ( the sequence of thought leading to this decision eludes me, also) to look up a recipe for ‘cabbage soup’ and try it out.
I don’t think I can ever look at another cabbage with any semblance of equanimity ever again. I don’t know what I did and how anyone could possibly have ruined, so utterly, something as simple as soup. I will end my sorry tale by saying that I strained the soup and um, watered my plants with that foul concoction. I sincerely hope they do not die. I’m rather fond of them. Then, I dumped the cabbage (after having tried to eat it! I get points for that, right?) in the trash.
Of course, as anyone who reads this blog regularly will tell you, I’m always one for ‘looking on the bright side’*. Hence this blog post- I mean, hey, at least I have a funny story right?.But now I just feel terrified of the kitchen. And mom. She is going to kill me when she’s back. She doesn’t think I can do anything without burning the house down as-is (and has good reason too, I suppose).Sigh.
*Which explains why I can’t say that without the quotes..
Update: I found this site.It cheered me up.It’s funny.