...or cook, for that matter. Too bad I love doing both. The first batch of cupcakes (bf's birthday...probably neglected to mention that previously) has emerged from the oven a perfectly golden yellow and they smell absolutely divine. I haven't touched a single one...mostly because they're too hot to touch...but also because I ate the equivalent, I'm guessing, of two of them in raw batter form as I poured them into the tins. You know how you do... It's just dripping off the spoon, tempting you, getting your recently cleaned kitchen way too dirty for 9 PM on a school night...okay, so maybe that's just me, I have no idea if anyone else has this problem. Regardless, I found it impossible to resist licking the spoon and part of the bowl before the process was finished. I will say, however, that I quickly regained my sense of ...what... I don't know. I regained *sense* itself and quickly tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink and promptly covered them both in soapy, sudsy water. Problem solved. Now I'm left with the memory of how yummy that batter was and the weight of the guilt my mind has concocted...wondering how much of my awesome day of running and careful, deliberate restriction has been reversed by brown sugar, milk, eggs, and butter...Ugh, and cake flour. Damn. Already done, can't go back, stop fucking beating yourself up, right? Right. Sure.
I'm nowhere close to being done with...anything. Cupcakes, yes. Check. Music test tomorrow. Study guide is far from complete...In fact, I've only managed to review the first couple of questions. Comm outline? Nowhere CLOSE. Laundry? ALL over my bed and floor and dresser. Heh, my grandmother would say it looks like a tornado hit my room...probably be an improvement. Little one is especially needy tonight. I guess that's her thing...needing me. :P
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