Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Memory of a failed dinner

The only thing worse than trying a recipe and discovering it's failed is having to clean up after it. It wasn't enough that after two bites you thought, "Hm, not my best," followed by, "maybe salt would make it better," to "I'll just eat it really fast," and ultimately ending with, "now my insides feel leaden and and disgusting."

Seriously. I spent ten minutes going "Bleh!" at semi-regular intervals.

After something like that, you'd think it would have the decency to clean up after itself. But no - it's still hanging around, reminding you of what you wish you hadn't digested.

It's all gone. I'm getting queasy again just thinking about it. Everything is scrubbed - all of the plates, all of the pans, bowls, two cutting boards, three wooden spoons, and after pouring bleach down my garbage disposal, even the smell of garlic is gone. Wiped down the counters. Swept and mopped the floor. It's gone. Gone gone gone.

Gone gone.


Now I think I need to bake something to recover. I'm contemplating oatmeal cookies.

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