There are days when I feel like I don’t have anything to write about. And then there are days like today. I’ve even included pictures; clearly, this is some serious stuff.
It all started with a midnight craving. I had some hot cocoa mix (a Christmas gift) and reasoned that since I was going to consume it eventually, it wouldn’t matter when that happened. So, rubbing my bleary eyes, I traipsed to the kitchen, found the pack, and emptied it into my favorite mug.
I then decided it would be a great idea to mix the powder with milk for better flavor (apparently, at the time, I found a powder-water mix to be beneath me). I’d mixed in maybe half a cup of milk when I realized my terrible, life-changing, baby-smashing, puppy-killing mistake. Powder doesn’t mix as well with cold liquids, and the milk was cold. A fact that I had somehow missed as I’d taken the jug out of the FRIDGE and POURED IT WITH MY BARE HANDS.
It looked like oatmeal, and I was not satisfied—if I’d wanted oatmeal, I would’ve made oatmeal. I tried to salvage the situation by microwaving the concoction in ten second increments (because I feared an explosion. I don’t know).
It was still unevenly mixed, but at that point, I had long passed the threshold of caring (or not caring? You get the idea). Cradling the unfortunate mug, I realized I’d also forgotten to put in the marshmallows.
Amazing what a little decoration–and six reheatings–can do. (I feel the need to tell you that the chocolate spoon was not my doing, although I’m pretty sure no one would’ve assumed it was anyway.)
I brought the hot cocoa over to my desk, feeling like I’d just won a war of sorts. And I had, but also had not, because, as I soon realized, a) the mug was cold, and b) this was far from over.
So ten second intervals weren’t enough. I set the microwave to a minute, and came back to find… this.
So, an hour and a splattered microwave later, I had myself a cup of hot cocoa. And even that was questionable. Please, someone save me from myself.