At Least I Tried

                Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to try and cook. I can bake really well, but cooking is a totally different story. I just don’t understand how that works: I can make layered cakes with fancy frosting, but I can’t make Kraft Mac and Cheese right. It’s almost pathetic sounding, isn’t it? Okay, it’s really pathetic but you get the point.

                I woke up really late this morning, just in time for lunch actually, but I still wanted to eat breakfast food. I tried to make eggs, and that didn’t go well; I mean, how hard is it to make eggs? My dad always made it look so easy, but no. Apparently you have to keep stirring them around the pan so that they don’t stick to the bottom and burn. Strike one, my friends. I then figured some hash browns would disguise the burnt taste of the eggs, so I stuck some in the microwave. And I ended up eating them cold. Strike two.

                I’m sure by now you’re trying to guess what strike three will be. To be honest, there was not a strike three. This was just my most recent cooking failure, as my past attempts at food haven’t generally turned out all that great. I mean for goodness sake, I’ve made Mac and Cheese the right way maybe three times in my life. Every other time I’ve either added to much milk, forgotten the butter, not cooked the noodles all the way, or the worst one yet: forgotten to drain the water before adding the other ingredients. I think it’s safe that culinary school is out of the question for me in the future.

I’m just glad my mom is the chef in the family and not me- if I was in charge of dinner every night, we would most likely be eating sandwiches and cereal (obviously I’m very classy with my specialties). Of course, we would always have cake for dessert; I mean that’s basically the only thing I can make correctly.

 

(338 words)