This morning I woke up to the lovely smell of – no, not coffee – burnt food. Last night’s dinner to be precise. I haven’t burnt food in approximately ten years. I’m a quite alright cook, I think. So far, I’ve fed a lot of people with my cooking and no one has ever died or complained (at least not to my knowledge).
So last night, I invited a friend for dinner and we had just started preparing the food when another friend of mine dropped by to show me her new — puppy!!! (Excitement!) Needless to say: I got distracted. Very. We went outside to play with little Millie (little distracting furry lovable puppy girl’s name) and when we came back we had to fumble our way from entrance to kitchen through a thick curtain of smoke. The good news: Now I know for sure that my smoke detector works just fine. Comforting knowledge, I think.
After clearing out as much of the smoke (and smell) as possible, we tried to rescue dinner the best we could. In the end, we didn’t starve. All was (fairly) well in Whoville. Yet, I felt a bit foolish the entire night. In fact, I still am. It’s one of these I-should-have-known-better-moments. Also, I feel mildly haunted because of the smell. Lesson learnt: Don’t play with fire – or better: Don’t play with dogs while you’re cooking with fire.
I’ve been having a couple of these I-should-have-known-better-moments lately. Usually it’s not that I burn food – I burn myself. Mostly, because I tend to underestimate things. Such as the amount of time rice takes to cook — and burn. Or the stubborn will of feelings – paired with their reluctance to negotiate on a reasonable level. Unfortunately, the latter can’t be fixed simply by airing.
I’m never sure if something’s worth holding on to, but when in doubt, I usually do. I hold on and hope. Until the number of burn blisters seems too much to take, even for me. It’s probably because to me what’s even worse than these annoying I-should-have-known-better-moments are the what-ifs. I’d rather spend some time cleaning up a bit of mess than wondering whether I should have kept fighting. Knowing that at least I tried always helps me deal with whatever it is that I can’t change. Message hidden between the lines: Sometimes getting burnt isn’t the worst thing in the world. What doesn’t kill you, as they say.
Last words: I’d have really preferred to wake up to this (a little bit of 80ies in the morning: caffeine for the tired ear):