Today is one of those rare Saturdays, planned and thought ahead of in time, with activities to fulfill in a somewhat timely manner and all I want to do is stay home with David Ricardo, Heckscher and Ohlin. They are not terribly exciting but its one of those Saturdays in which I am not up for anything remotely exciting.
I have a long list of boring chores that needs to get done, including a toilet that needs a good scrubbing, recycling alcohol bottles and stewing in my own filth. Somewhere in the city, people are laughing while nursing a glass of red and all I want to do is bake. Yes, bake. I can bake. Yes, yes, I can. And my cookies are afuckenmazing.
I have a long list of boring chores that needs to get done, including a toilet that needs a good scrubbing, recycling alcohol bottles and stewing in my own filth. Somewhere in the city, people are laughing while nursing a glass of red and all I want to do is bake. Yes, bake. I can bake. Yes, yes, I can. And my cookies are afuckenmazing.
2 comments:
Baking are we now?
I remember reading somewhere that baking is a normal reflex by your subconscious mind signalling that your biological clock is ticking and that you have an impending urge to bear children.
Leesa juniors anytime soon?
Lol. That is an insult to the inner feminist in me; that must have been thought up by greedy, sexist men who believe a woman's place is in the kitchen. That, or a fat man. Tee hee hee.
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