Tonight, I need a maid. My niece is getting married on Saturday and my job is to make fudge for the reception and we are having a soup and chili cook off at work tomorrow. Right now my kitchen looks like a bomb went off. I made Crab Soup, being from Maryland it’s almost a requirement. It’s a wonderful fall soup, full of yummy vegetables and chunks of crab, lots of spices and chopping. It’s a mess.
Then there is the fudge making, so far I’ve made five batches and if I’m lucky, three of them have turned out. I don’t have a candy thermometer so I just boil until I think it’s done. Surprisingly it doesn’t always turn out like I want it to.
Now I have a kitchen covered with soup and fudge making mess. I don’t want to clean it up. I started off well, cleaning as I went, but then the fudge started boiling and all my plans went out the window. I even dropped scalding hot fudge on my foot and the floor, and then I stepped in it so I burned the top and the bottom of my foot.
At times like these I think I need a wife! Someone to make the fudge and the soup and clean up the kitchen when she is done. Then I remember that someone is me, I’m supposed to be the one to do all of this with grace and flair.
Not this girl. I’m a mess in the kitchen. It’s like Pigpen came in and brought the Tasmanian Devil with him. This drives me nuts, once the kitchen is out of control I lose all motivation to clean it. I walk in there and just look, not even knowing where to begin.
That’s why I’m writing this blog, it’s a delay tactic. I keep hoping that while I’m typing the maid will show up.