thewayne | NOT HAPPY

Moving is a stressful time. I had a simple plan when I got home tonight. Bake two batches of brownies to take in to work tomorrow. These are Ghiradellis with extra chocolate chips, one set with walnuts added. After said brownies are done, since the oven is already hot, I then throw in a pizza which provides me with lunch Friday and Saturday.

Not a bad plan.

Then this morning comes.

As usual, I’m starting slow. A combination of STS (Short Timers Syndrome) and my neck being in a huge amount of pain. I had just finished running a sulfuric acid mix down my tub drain to hopefully speed it up (an industrial drain cleaner called Clobber) and was lying in my bedroom reading the newest Harry Potter lying on an ice bag when my front door opened.

I knew from the fumbling of the key that it was my dad. I don’t know why he has problems with my door, but he does. I know immediately that my mom is with him and they’re going to do what packing that they can. My mom had offered to pack my kitchen and I welcomed the help.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason (stress, pain, combination thereof) I was kind of flustered. I helped my dad get some boxes out of storage, showed him which key opened which locker in case he wanted more boxes, and set him loose. My mom was busy in the kitchen, I went to work.

I get home tonight, parental units are gone, lots of filled and taped boxes line the walls. I lie down with some ice and Potter, when my neck is feeling sufficiently better, I get up and prepare to do battle in the kitchen.

There’s only one problem. My mom packed the kitchen. She packed everything.

Brownie mixes? Packed.

Walnuts? Packed.

Mixing bowl? Packed.

Pans for baking? Packed.

Toothpicks for seeing if they’re done? Packed.

Kitchen timer? Packed.

Pizza slicer? Packed.

Baggies for storing pizza in? Packed.

Eggs for brownies? Fridge.

Frozen pizza? Freezer.

Now let’s add another layer or two.

Also packed are: all clean dishes, all clean silverware, breakfast oatmeal, dishwasher detergent for both electric dishwasher and sink.

What is in the dishwasher? Dirty dishes.

I have breakfast cereal on the counter, I have rice milk in the fridge, I have no bowls or spoons that are clean. The bowls and spoons that I do have I have no way to clean.

ARGH!

I give up. I quit. No fucking brownies for tomorrow to take to work, my last day in the office. Mom offered to bake them, but that doesn’t work. It’s not the right mix, and I wouldn’t be doing it. I’m 43. It’s one thing to take in mega brownies and say “I made them”, that’s cool. If you take in brownies that aren’t as mega and then say your mom made them, that’s weird.

So that’s it. I tore into many boxes. I found the brownie mix, I found mixing bowls that I could use but not my preferred bowls, I couldn’t find silverware (i.e. things with which to mix and to slice), the pans to bake them in, or the dishwasher detergent.

I quit. I’m going to play City of Heroes for an hour or two and kill things.