A tale of the cut out cookies
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Today, I woke with the intent of getting some shit done. Sort of like every other day, but only more like a child resigned to a day of banal parental issued chores that had been put off until the last minute. Not unlike Friday night and Saturday, but with less holiday spirit.
I wanted a shower. A nice, long hot shower fated to dry my skin out even more, but would feel oh-so-amazing in the moment. After all, isn’t that why I buy lotion to forget to put on?
The lights went out. I spent the next five minutes zealous using up my mobiles battery power and sipping my coffee, waiting. Then, I got up and checked outside. The neighbors lights were out, too. I checked PECO app, nothing. It took two reports of my outage to finally get PECO on board that there was no power in the neighborhood. They estimated a few hours. Foregoing the shower, I instead opted to do some errands and find brunch. As I left the house, the new ETA for power was late evening.
Despite solid sleep the night before, I felt like I was slogging through mucky water in heavy boots. I finished what I needed outside the house, got a sandwich, and returned home a few hours later. The power was restored.
I started he laundry with the hope that we didn’t lose power again and turned on the oven. The cookie doughs had been chilling since yesterday and it was now or share raw cookie dough with friends and other people whom I feel obliged.
Every year I swear to the goddess of baked goods that I won’t do cutout cookies again, and every year I forget. I blame the cute cookie cutters that I come across all year long. Of course I need unicorns and cat cookies — hello and thank you kitchen gadget store! But it’s all fun and games until you are covered in all purpose flour while your cookies are sticking to the counter because they are not.
My only saving wit was that I had the good sense to not do double batches the day before. Seriously, I debated it with myself. I’m so glad that the thought of hand washing one more freaking bowl prevented me from that mistake.
The cookies baked, and me still covered in flour, un-showered, I decided the best course of action was a nap. It was amazing. Holding up my head had turned into a feat of strength. I’d love to be one of those people that wakes from naps refreshed and ready to go, but I’m more of the type to feel like I just got over a 3-day bender. Joey naps like a champion, I wish I knew that secret.
Frosting and sparkly sugar were waiting me. I poured another Diet Coke and went to work. I’m not sure how it happened, but I had JUST enough powdered sugar to finish all the cookies. Usually I keep a spare bag in the pantry but no. The gratitude I felt for the goddess of baked goods to not have to go back out can only be described as jubilous.
The cookies done, I fixed myself a bowl of soup (oh yeah, I made soup while all this was going on), and headed to the living room. Joey was awake now, and I got him a bowl, too. After dinner, we went into the kitchen to put our bowls in the sink. He looked at the cookies with such excitement and happiness that I remembered now why I do the cookies. It was all worth it.
- note, this was written on 19 December, but I apparently fell asleep before publishing.
Song of the day: You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch
