There's a Reason I Don't Cook

I'm not a great cook. It's a fact of life. I never have been. I can remember burning rice in our apartment in SLC, filling it with smoke and Carl coming home to an open door and windows and asking "What's for dinner?"

Another memorable moment was when I spilled half of the stir fry onto the carpet here in Kentucky. Luckily, it was as I was putting dinner away, not putting it onto the table.

These are just a couple of examples of my kitchen disasters. For more evidence, see the following pictures.

These are some lovely cookies I baked today. Don't they look nice? Oh, and aren't those cookie racks awesome? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they stack on top of each other. Saves a lot of room in counter-challenged-apartments.

However, upon looking at a close-up of the cookies, you notice something peculiar. What could it be? Yes, it is my reject pile. Those are the cookies I refuse to take to my friends house tonight either because they broke in half as I was getting them off the cookie sheet or because they fell on the floor after I knocked the cookie rack off the counter...

Most of them are the second reason. And that's what left after Carl said "You mopped the floor this week, right?" and ate some of them.

Yes, you read that right. Carl was putting cookies onto the second tier of the cookie racks and I knocked the cookie rack off the counter. Luckily, Carl managed to grab the second tier and save most of the cookies. The rest, however, we're doomed.

I guess know we know why my older sister called me "Klutz" growing up.