This will be a short post, because I’ve been dealing with some technical issues this week. They’ve been almost frustrating enough to drive me to the kitchen to cook, which is rarely a good idea.
I know that some people cook for enjoyment, because the act of producing a delicious meal satisfies their creative impulses. For the most part, I cook because I, and those around me, eat. I can turn out an edible meal, but it is never about the presentation, and it is always about the chaos.
That no doubt has something to do with my propensity for plunging headlong into preventable moments—making those quick choices that result in long-lasting regret. In my desire to finish the cooking and commence the eating, I hustle around my very small kitchen, leaving cupboard doors open upon which I will later bump my head, and failing to close drawers into which I will ram my shin. I don’t replace the caps on liquid ingredients, the better to knock them over and spill the contents. Quite often I grab a dish towel instead of a potholder to pick up a pan on the stove. Occasionally, the tail of the towel will float across the open flame, because I haven’t turned the burner off. Then make a mad dash to reach the faucet to put out the fire before I engulf the entire kitchen in flames. I do not seek chaos, but I consistently make micro decisions that result in mega turmoil.
I feel, dear readers, that it is time we take our relationship to the next level of trust. If you view the video below, you will see the raw, unvarnished truth of a rather shameful part of my life: the kitchen behind the writer. It was filmed almost four years ago, but, sadly, little has changed.