OK, listen. The picture doesn't do this justice. At all. This is a cake recipe that has been doubled. Why? Because I'm a genius and why not double a chocolate cake? But then, I was in a hurry. Why again? Because I had to DYE MY HAIR BEFORE CHURCH, good heavens! And so, maybe, in my haste, I forgot all the flour. You know, that ingredient that holds everything together. Yah, that one. 20 minutes into baking at 350 degrees and the entire thing exploded all over the oven. Like, literally, exploded. Or, bubbled up and over everything.
I opened the oven and just starred at it for a while. Then I walked away hoping a fairy would clean it up. No go. Then I almost started crying while I scraped every stinkin' surface of that oven. 2 of the children came to gawk at the situation and then left. Child #1 had mercy in her heart and stayed to help clean. She's now the favorite. Forever.
After it was all made right again, I made another cake. Because honestly, what good is a Sunday dinner without a chocolate cake? Am I right? This time, the Forever Favorite Child made sure I included all the ingredients. Hallelujah. The day was saved.
I've had something on my mind lately. And I just have to ask. OK? Because I'm curious and I'm also worried I'm weirder than I already suspect. So hear me out.
I'm an Introvert.
I love talking to people. Truth. I'm wildly entertaining to be with. Another truth. But reality? I never want to go anywhere. Ever. I just want to stay home and do my thing. The Husband may, or may not, have started calling me a hermit. And I'm totally not offended. It's a backwards compliment.
It all started once I turned 40. Since then I really can't find any enthusiasm for going out. Home is where it's at for me. Parties? Sheesh, can't stand them. But once I actually go? Because I'm married to an uber social butterfly? I have fun. Because remember, I love talking to people. So, I just don't know what my problem is.
I've decided it's an age thing. Am I right? Chime in if you're over 40. Do you hate going out too? Or is it just me. Maybe it's me. OK, it's probably only me. For reals. I'm a walking "situation". I should get out more, but hey, that takes way too much energy. I'd rather stay home and do a puzzle. I'm terrible. Or maybe I'm really 84 instead of 44.
I'm going to eat my feelings with some chocolate cake.