It’s Monday morning and I am calmly eating pumpkin-walnut bread that I’ve just pulled impatiently out of the oven (even though Gourmet said it would take an hour to bake and it really took an hour and twenty minutes- it got to the point that when I checked on it, for the third time, even Charlie Bagel was over it. Instead of following me faithfully to the oven like he had every other time, he just looked at me balefully from his spot on the floor like “I think we need to let this go”). Today I’m also making white bread, pizza dough and homemade pasta- it’s a carb maelstrom and I am the one covered in flour in the middle.
Just because the state of my finances had me waking up at 7am with my heart in my throat this morning, does not mean I plan on reverting to my college meal plan (dry Cap’n Crunch and Diet Coke).
Thanks to everyone for their kind words of support. You’ll be happy to know that I’m tackling this the same way you approach choosing a profession in kindergarten. Standing in my bathtub this morning, knee deep in dirty water because the clog is hopelessly drained, I thought, “Maybe I’ll be a plumber.” This also happened yesterday when I took Charlie for a walk and passed a girl trying to jump-start her station wagon. “A mechanic. I’ll be a sexy girl mechanic like in a Nora Roberts novel.” “An astronaut!” (threatening Vic, who’s afraid of space) “A cowboy!” (I got Wyatt Earp through Netflix- that movie is looooong).
I’ve also considered, in varying degrees of seriousness, becoming a librarian, selling my eggs to a gay couple, cooking school, marrying a rich 80 year old man, data entry and working for Dr. House (thank you for the support, USA Network and TiVo).
So, if anyone has any bright ideas, let me know. I’m open for suggestions.