Tuesday I worked an 8 hour shift, came home and ate dinner (reheated lasagne) and got to work. I baked a coconut cake but substituted coconut creme instead of coconut milk. Same difference, right? Wrong. The cake turned out to be a sweet, crunchy flat lump. I effed up. Royally.
The cake needed to be done by today and the rest of my week was crazy so Tuesday was it. I had all the ingredients I needed but the coconut milk so I ran out at 7:30 to go get some. I found it at the third (?!) grocery store I tried, came home and made the cake all over again. I finally finished the cake at 11pm. It was perfect. I was exhausted and frankly, a bit pissed off about how long it all took. I mean, I had to be up at 6:15 Friday and did I mention I missed dragonboat practice to bake too? But there was a kernel of something else too. Deep down there was a booger sized nugget of pride and happiness. Joy, even.
After all that nonsense I realize I must really love to bake.