The Kitchen and I

What constitutes a successful day for you? Accomplishing something big at work or school (or both)? Eating three healthy meals? Completing a to-do list? I certainly agree with all of these things, and am sure you all have your own "successful day" indicator. While a successful day for me fluctuates, depending on what I'm currently involved in or the status of my life, lately these successful days equal completing various household tasks. My energy is coming back bit by bit, my second cold waning (though not this forceful cough) and my motivation to get our apartment back in order runs high.

Now is Wednesday evening. Tuesday I slaved away at our kitchen floor, scrubbing a few month's worth of crap and grime. I alternated mopping and vacuuming, until the floor shined in only a way dull hardwood can. My next task involved clearing off the dining table. From one end to the other, the fact that it was indeed a table was hard to recognize. After another hour of putting away, throwing away, cleaning and again, vacuuming, the table shone in all its black-brown glory. I smiled with the greatest sense of self-satisfaction as I admired the clean kitchen. I willed the kitchen at that moment to stay clean for at least a month.

Of course, later on, as David was working on our muffin pizzas, carrying them to the oven, he suddenly makes a noise as if in trouble. I glance up from my cooking and run over to help. SPLAT! Too late. A muffin met its fate on the newly cleaned floor. I wasn't sure what to cry over, the lost homemade muffin, or the sauce and cheese splattered on the FLOOR. In the end, I think my attachment to the floor won out. David was nice enough to clean it up though.

So ever since this cleaning spree, I vacuum the floor a couple times a day and wipe up spills almost immediately. Did I mention, that our apartment is a dust-magnet? I have no idea where it comes from. No matter how often I vacuum, it never lasts very long! Curses dust. Curses to you.

Uh.... anyway. So since yesterday was cleaning day, today was cooking/baking day. After David's sudden declaration he was going to make pancakes this morning, I mixed up a batch. Lunch was meatloaf I baked up last night. I wanted to make roasted potatoes, with these special potatoes I have never tried before. (Never seen them in the States). So, I cut them per the usual, seasoned them and tossed them in the oven. My taste test 20 minutes later led me to a burning, coppery mouth. Me in the kitchen, spitting it all out, rinsing out my mouth with water. What kind of potatoes ARE these? What if they are poisonous? What if I'm allergic? I was sure my face would puff up any instant, and so I brushed my teeth. As if that could really help...

David walks in for lunch to see me brushing my mouth out like mad.

"Something is wrong with those potatoes!" I asserted.

David pops a piece in his mouth and says he doesn't notice anything.

"My mouth is BURNING," I insist. "You don't feel anything???"

"Nope."

Figures.

Then I obsessively scrubbed the cutting board I cut them up on... so they wouldn't poison me some other way.

What else did I try today? Lately I have been experimenting making whole wheat English muffins. I've actually never made English muffins before, so it has definitely been trial and some error. However, the second batch came out quite nice. Fluffy, wheaty, full of air pockets you expect in any good bread. Yum.

Just the other day I made these scrumptious peanut butter cookies.

And cinnamon buns:

If only I had a picture of those English muffins... but, some other time perhaps. Now, the evening is winding down and off to bed I go.  (Well, after I've had to edit the stupid html ten times to make the pictures stop messing with the text.) Tomorrow is a new day - and a day that will most likely not involve any time in the kitchen, cooking or cleaning.