Meaning in the Mundane {2…1? I think?}: On being too lazy to look up what yesterday was and angering the baking gods.

Everyone I’ve ever worked with has made fun of me for this, but whenever I attempt something new/finicky/annoying, I say a prayer to the baking gods. The ribbing usually comes because I am pretty well a non-believer when it comes to higher powers, but…you damned well don’t want to piss off the baking gods. I know those fuckers are real.

Today was yet another migraine day (it wants to rain so bad and the damn storms just…won’t…come), and of course I decided (in the midst of awful humidity) that I was going to make boss lady a trifle for her birthday. So…lady fingers, pastry cream, et cetera…

Or, you know. Not.

With my head throbbing under the florescent lights and the humidity coating every surface in a slightly wet, sticky layer of disgusting, I neglected to pay my verbal homage to those usually benevolent deities of pastry. And they came down upon me with a vengeance. Flat, tough lady fingers (which spread down to look more like engorged leeches than the delicate spongy cakes I was hoping for), and for the first time in my life, my pastry cream was a lumpy, gooey mess.

I improvised — that’s what you do when everything goes to shit in a kitchen — and of course everything worked out fine. Boss lady will get her trifle (blueberry cake instead of lady fingers; custard instead of pastry cream).

But damn. Don’t forget to give some love to those gods of baking because they will fuck you.

And yes, I am far too lazy to make sure that I am, in fact, on day 21…so I’ll fix that tomorrow, I suppose…