So I had a round two attempt at making soup today, mostly because the first one went so well and I figured it would be cool to use some of my new techniques from my cooking class on Friday. Because last time I had way too much stuff for the broth, I decided to double the broth. For some reason this made be subconsciously double everything else too, so, alas, I have the same problem. However! Fear not, as I added a shit ton of spices and now my mouth is burning off so I need to go back to the store to get a third jug of broth anyway. Silly, silly me.
Joe went home today. We had basically seen each other every day for the last two weeks, which was epically awesome and we didn’t argue even a tad and had tons of fun together. Yet, I still know some sort of separation was necessary as I was growing… less excited about seeing him? I think I missed missing him and getting super excited all day just to see him. I struggle between wanting to spend all of my time with him and understanding that alone time is healthy too. Sometimes my gut instinct, when he says he’s going home, is to be upset- but rationally I understand that makes no sense.
Friday was hell at work. I didn’t have much to do and I got really bored. After work (which seemed like 15,000 hours), I went to Rock Bottom to write a bit. I’m starting to like that place a lot, it’s pretty neat to be so close and have a nice, easy place to write. Soon Joe came to meet me, and we got ready to go to our cooking class! I was still in a sour mood from the day, but I was trying my hardest to be excited for it.
When we got to the chef’s house, neither of us had any idea what to expect. It was in a part of town that I was not familiar with and the house was really eccentric looking. The chef came to the door and was nothing like I had pictured. He reminded me a little of my friend Joel, which was nice actually. He showed us around a little- the bathroom, where we would be eating, and then the kitchen. I was expecting that Joe and I would be doing a majority of the cooking, with him kind of walking us through it. Turns out though, that he actually did everything for us and we just watched. This turned out to be awesome because 1) I was nervous about both of our cooking abilities and I didn’t want to look like and ass and 2) a four course meal was going to take long enough for a seasoned professional, let alone two kiddos who don’t know what they are doing.
When the last course came around (the chicken and steak, not dessert), I all of a sudden felt stomachly ill. I tried to hold in there as I hate going to the bathroom in public, especially someone else’s house. However, it was either use the restroom or puke on the food our chef had just prepared for us. I decided to take one for the team. I went to the bathroom and it was probably the smallest one I’ve ever seen. The toilet was a cool 50 degrees, but this worked in my favor as I was also having a hot flash (from feeling ill- not the menopause kind). I began to feel dizzy and needed to rest my head; luckily the sink was in forehead’s reach of where I was sitting.
Now, I know we’ve all faced the following situation, but please pardon my graphic detail. I was having a difficult time deciding where to throw up. I had two options, well, three really. I use the sink (gross, but Tony’s anorexic girlfriend used to do that when she would take me to work with her at the soda factory- I’m still unsure if the puking was from the pregnancy or the heroin…). There was also the trash can, but it didn’t have a bag in it. The only other option would have been to stand up at the last moment to use the toilet, but the bathroom was too small to allow for such shifting.
Turns out, I didn’t have to puke. I started to feel only remotely better, so I went back out to Joe and we left shortly after. The bus ride home was epically painful (and cold!), but once we got home we basically collapsed and slept for ever. It was nice (the sleeping part, not everything else).