I made cookies this past weekend. Triple chocolate chip cookies, Tom’s favorite and Olivia’s second favorite.
About three quarters of the way through baking these cookies, I put a pan of water on to boil so I could toss some spaghetti in there for dinner (for Tom and the girls, I’m still making my own separate dinners because, duh, still not at my goal weight, even fifteen months into whatever it is I’m doing to get healthy.)
Except, I’m sort of an idiot and I turned on the front right burner, the one I usually use when making dinner, instead of the back right burner which is the one on which the pan of water sat, all cold and non-boily.
But I didn’t realize this at first. No, no I did not realize this. Instead, I went about the house, putting clothes away, talking to Olivia, helping her find some shoes she was asking about as that uncovered burner heated the hell right up and the one with the water sat, still cold and non-boily.
I took the cookies that were in the oven getting all browned and perfectly lovely and put then on the stove to cool on the pan for the two minutes suggested by the recipe.
Olivia and I went upstairs for something and as we came back down the stairs, I smelled the distinct scent of burning chocolate chip cookie. Just, just one cookie.
That one cookie that sat on the cookie sheet directly over the burner that I’d accidently turned on instead of the burner on which the pot of cold water sat, that cookie was smoking and burning into the cookie sheet.
I moved the cookie sheet from the burner, turned off that burner, turned on the one that held the pot of still-cold water and then went about taking the cookies off the cookie sheet. Well, I took all the ones that hadn’t burned off of it. The one that burned? It had to be scraped and soaked and as of today, remnants of that cookie still stain the cookie sheet.
I know that everyone makes mistakes. I get that. I also know it was just one cookie in a big batch of cookies. But damn it!
Do you know what it’s like to live with a husband who never, ever seems to make mistakes? One who looks around the house and knows exactly what needs to be done and how to get it done and who doesn’t shy away from giving advice on how to get things done?
It’s not always pleasant, is what I’m saying. I often feel like such a moron if only because I’m never as sure as he is. I’m never as competent and I probably never will be.
But I do know it was only a cookie. This time.
Edited to add that in no way does Tom make me feel like an idiot for the above burner fiasco. He doesn't ever act like he knows everything. This is all my own perception, my own issues. He really is just that confident, though. I envy that in him and wish he'd share just a little of his confidence with me.