I’m definitely going mad, and probably shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen. I decided I was going to make granola bars, because I’m hungry and they’re good for breakfast, and I don’t know, it’s Hunger Logic. So, I copied out the recipe, asked my mom for the changes she usually makes, and she offered suggestions/orders like “crack the eggs into a separate bowl, I know you have difficulty”, and “I’ll lay out all the ingredients for you”.
So I mixed the egg and honey and vegetable oil together, and everything was going to plan. Then I put the dry ingredients into a bowl. There was a bit of a problem, the one-cup dry measuring cup was gone, for some stupid reason, but I had a 1/2 cup one, and adjusted accordingly. So, I had it all ready for adding the wet stuff. But then, I realized that I completely forgot flour. Disaster averted! Then I realized that I almost forgot the craisins. That was a problem, since it looked like we were out of craisins. I searched the pantry a couple of times, no craisins. Then I thought to myself “this is the sort of thing that mom makes fun of us for, we should find those craisins”. Then a cantankerous voice in my head boomed “CAN YOU SWEAR TO IT IN COURT, LADDIE?” And so I looked one more time, all the shelves, and then resigned myself glumly to not having craisins, trusting fully in my Holmesian powers of minute observation. I spent about ten minutes smoothing the granola bar stuff down onto the baking sheet all nicely, which is to say as neatly as I could. My mom would sigh, shake her head, and say “is that really the best you can do?” There was less than a half an inch’s difference in thickness, and no point of the uneven edge was directly above another. Not bad.
Got the stuff in the oven, lamented the lack of craisins, even though I don’t really like craisins that much. Craisins bring up fond memories because back when I did horseback riding, my horse usually got craisins as a snack. I’m not gonna say we fought over the craisins. So I started to clean up, and patted myself for a job decently done, considering the circumstances, but lo, what did I see?
MY 1 CUP MEASURE.
Reeling with this revelation, I cursed myself for not looking at the part of the counter where my ingredients were, but then thought “well, at least my powers of observation aren’t completely useless”.
So I gave a shout of dismay, pulled the baking sheet out of the oven, and dumped all the stuff back in the bowl, mixed in some craisins, smoothed the stuff in the baking sheet to slightly less precision than previously, put the damn thing back in the oven, then set the timer.
Then I turned the oven off (it’s a good thing for people like me to turn ovens and burners off prior to removing the food, else they’ll be on forever) and left it to sit, started the first half of this entry, then tried to cut them into nice rectangles, then ended up with this:
Maybe there’s an approximate rectangle in there somewhere. And they taste funny.
I’ll put this down as a kitchen fail.