Kitchen...

As I've said before my kitchen is spotless (for 30 minutes twice a week). Yesterday I got it so shinny I damn near needed sun glasses to go in there. Damn near. Right away the bread maker started calling my name. Ya see I cheat with my bread, I let the bread maker mix my dough and raise it before I take it out and form it into whatever it's going to be before baking it. Ok so I only half cheat. Anyways.

So the bread maker is calling my name and the elk steak my (use to be and I'll miss him greatly because he was awesome [that's another story I'll tell you when I'm not so broken hearted]) good friend gave me that's been in the freezer waiting for something special to happen to take them out was calling my name too. I love elk, I think it's my favorite even more so then beef. True I have to take a little more care with cooking it so it doesn't dry out but it has such a "connected to the earth" flavor to it that cow just can't duplicate, not even that grass fed cow. Sorry Mr. Bovine but you're my 2nd favorite meat (er um maybe 3rd, I really love my home grown chicken). Anyways.

So my bread maker and elk steaks are calling my name. I remind myself that I just cleaned my kitchen and if I don't hold off there will never be proof of it clean until next time (unless I take a picture, hmm... I should have thought about that while it was clean. Damn.) Then I remind myself it's pizza night (Monday night has become pizza night because I like someone else doing the cooking at least once a week and since I'm single [sigh] there is no one else here so I let Digiorno to do the cooking Monday night.) So my spirits are lifted, maybe my kitchen will stay clean until Tuesday morning (a whole 20hrs or so). How exciting would that be?

Yet the bread maker and elk steaks are calling my name and now that I remember it's pizza night I know my oldest is going to be expecting pizza so I'm feeling slightly obligated to let Digiorno do my cooking tonight. At the same time I can't seem to explain that to the bread maker, its saying 'but I'm so much more fun than ripping open a box and shoving a frozen pizza in the oven'. I can't hardly argue with that, but my 8yr old is still going to be expecting pizza, then the light bulb comes on (the one over the kitchen sink because it gets too hot and goes out then when it cools off again it comes back on). I could make pizza, Digiorno will be a little disappointed that I'm not inviting him over tonight but maybe he'd understand. Heck he's the longest relationship I've had since my divorce (I'll make it up to him next week).

So it's settled, I add all the necessary ingredients to the bread maker and set it for dough. Happy with my ability to compromise I go to find my elk steaks then ponder if pizza is really a worthy cause for elk steaks. A couple of brauts catch my attention and I compromise again. I toss the brauts on the counter to thaw out and I smile at my spotless kitchen promising I won't wait till Wednesday to clean it up.

The pizza turned out great! The kitchen is a wreck once more and this morning I'm suffering from regret, kind of like what happens when you drink just a little more then you intended to the night before and your head hurts and you keep the lights off cause they scream at you every time you turn them on. Yet you have no one to blame but yourself and you know it, but, but... you had a good excuse for drinking so much cause you were broken hearted because that sob broke your heart. Of course that doesn't cure your hang over, but you feel a little bit better and remind yourself never to do it again.

[Sigh] I should clean my kitchen... maybe tomorrow.