Act I, Scene 1:
Decide to bake muffins. Pumpkin spice.
Decide to roast almonds. Chili spiced.
Decide to do these things at the same time in a kitchen that is smaller than my cubicle at work. That means small.
Act I, Scene 2:
Realize after my trip to the store that I am out of salt. WHAT???? OUT OF SALT??? How did I not see this coming??? How could I have missed this??? Who runs out of salt???? I AM A FAILURE AT LIFE!!!!!
(Curtain falls as the young woman crumbles in a heap on her kitchen floor, arms outstretched screaming at the heavens).
ACT II
Scene 1:
I change out of my sweatpants (nightmare) and replace with jeans. Skip putting on a bra and just grab a sweatshirt. Stomp to CVS. Get to CVS. THEY DON'T HAVE SALT?????? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD!!!????? Glare at the poor woman who cannot control the fact that they are missing this item. Exit. Try Whole Foods.
Scene 2:
Whole Foods. T Minus 36 hours to Thanksgiving. Misery. Lines. Overflowing shopping carts. Screaming babies. Out of sugar. Out of cinnamon. Out of brussel sprouts. Women with intense and competitive eyes, peering around every aisle. Men staring blankly at the lists they have been given. It is a war zone. I join the fray.
Scene 3:
I am staring at 8 different kinds of salt. They do not have the kind I usually buy. WHERE IS IT??? Oh, it is the kind that EVERYONE buys and therefore they are completely out. What kind should I get? The one that has a picture of a chef on it? The one that is Kosher? Sea Salt?? The one that is clearly the off-brand of salt??? Does buying off-brand salt matter the way off-brand matters with shampoo or macaroni and cheese?? Perhaps I should just cry like I want to and use the salt from my tears. No. Be an adult. You are being over-dramatic. Besides, you already watched Little Women this week, let's be honest, your tear ducts are dried up. Just pick one. Kosher it is. Bend down, pick up the salt. The word 'Kosher' makes me want pickles. Consider going down another aisle to get some pickles. Decide my hatred of people in large quantities is greater than my desire to eat a kosher dill. Proceed to checkout line which is surprisingly calm but the vultures are hovering. Salt is purchased quickly, store is exited.
ACT III
Scene 1:
At home, the baking and roasting begins. It is 10:15 pm. K-State is already losing. A few expletives are muttered. The batter smells good. I consider trying some then consider the raw eggs. Stomach churns. Wonder where my fear of eating certain foods has come from. I used to eat pork rinds for crying out loud and now I can't try just a little bit of spiced pumpkin muffin mix. Ultimately, give in to the fear, decide against the taste and begin filling cups. As I do this, I start thinking about pork rinds again. Someone once told me that they were George H. W.'s favorite snack. As I am thinking of George Bush sr. and pork rinds, I fail to grease the muffin pan. I bake for 25 minutes. I now have 12 muffins I am unable to remove from the pan. Consider just bringing the pan to Thanksgiving dinner and making people pass it around the table and eat the muffins out with a fork. Laugh. Remember that I am angry and promptly turn bitter again.
Scene 3:
Start roasting the almonds. Have high hopes for this snack. Treat them tenderly, lovingly, like they are my baby almonds and I am their almond mother. Burn them. EXPLODE.
(Curtain falls as the young woman crumbles in a heap on her kitchen floor, arms outstretched screaming at the heavens).
ACT IV
Scene 1:
Next Morning.
Apologize to all injured parties (kitchen, boyfriend, muffin pan, burned-alive baby almonds, the kosher dills I should have bought).
End of Play.
