In an attempt to prepare for independent student life in Australia, I do sometimes make an effort to cook a lil somethin' somethin' for myself, normally in the middle of the night in my Spongebob boxers.
Normally it's instant noodles. I know, it doesn't count as cooking. But this time I actually tried SOMETHING.
Scrambled eggs! Woo! With milk sugar and butter. All the nice fatty goodness.
They looked more like a broken up omelette than scrambled, but it tasted yummy. I don't know how my mom makes her scrambled eggs so nice and fluffy.
So, everything went fine, could've used a bit more sugar. Didn't burn anything down, thankfully.
And then, I thought something nice to complement my sweet scrambled eggs would be a glass of cold milk. Maybe it was residual butter or oil on my fingers, but the glass slipped out from my hand and fell on the floor, and just as well, I got a nice big cut on my leg from a flying shard.
In other words, that was the kitchen's way of telling me to get the fuck out now now now.
No comments:
Post a Comment