>Banal blog entry week continues

>

So, cooking in my apartment is difficult. I only have approximately 3 square inches of counter-space. I lack most of the apparatus necessary to cook anything decent. If I turn on the “oven” (and I use the term very, very loosely – it could either be considered a fairly kick-ass toaster oven or an extremely poorly endowed oven) the elements go out. I lack certain culinary skills. I call heating up a frozen pizza “cooking”. You get the picture.

I’m happy with no microwave oven, but as I’m eating at home more and more often, I find myself wishing I had a toaster. Because I’m eating more toast (bread is cheap). A toaster would make my life so much easier.

The problem when I “cook” is that I don’t pay attention. I have the attention span of a gnat. I start cooking and then I get distracted by something else – often by something shiny. And then I forget I’m cooking something and this leads to disaster.

Sigh. Most of the food I eat these days is either undercooked (I de-stove it before it is ready to ensure I won’t over cook it) or highly overcooked. Which means my house always smells like burned toast. Because I forget that I’m toasting something until I smell it and it is black on one side and still bread on the other. Ew.

I wish I had room on my counter (note: not counterS, counter. There is but one counter in my place. A little one.) for a toaster. Or I wish I had someone around to cook for me. Cooking for myself is balls. I bet someone else would rock at cooking toast. And then I wouldn’t even have to get up out of bed to eat it, let alone to cook it. That’d be cool.

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