I have decided that 18 days is a sufficient mourning period for the loss of one's occupation/career/identity. Byegones.
I decided yesterday to bake some chocolate chip cookies. I am an unemployed housespouse now so I figured I should act accordingly. That and I make bitchin' cookies. In fact, my cookies are so good that I would sell them and probably make a million dollars, except for the fact that there are all those zoning issues and you have to let a county inspector into your house to look around. I don't think the inspector could get past the mound of dog hair by the front door. Of course, it's not like I am letting the dog make the cookies (or even lick the spatula midstream in the process) but you know how these damn government types are....
So I got really inspired when it looked like Derek might be thinking about making beer in the kitchen. He left for a second and I had the mixer humming. Touche. Beat cha, beat cha.
Well, the cookies take like a million years to cook and I got inspired to go to Costco to get food for dinner with our friends Eliot and Marelle that night. Derek came with me (which was great because I lost my Costco card about 3 days after I got it, which was around 2 years ago). An hour later, Derek opened the door to a plume of smoke and the smoke detector going "BEEP, BEEP, BEEP" incessantly.
Probably shouldn't have left that last batch of cookies in the oven before we went, huh?