I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands. ~ Zora Neale Hurston
It's no secret. I do not like to cook. I'm not adverse to eating ~ so long as someone else goes to the time & trouble of throwing the food together. In fact I so dislike cooking Star has taken to asking if she's going to get fed tonight or is she making for both of us? Sadly, more often than not, she has been making for both of us. The men are left to fend for themselves. Because they're carnivores.
Technically I am on holidays. I do not want to spend my holidays in the kitchen. I'd rather scrub the loo. I like my kitchens neat & shiny clean & totally unused. However my entire household likes to eat. If I take too long about dishing up for the cats they start swiping at me as I walk past. If I am sitting Marlow will reach up & dab his claws at my rump. Just a friendly reminder that his tummy is rumbling & he wants something in it. Pronto.
However last night I pulled myself together to perform my kitchenly duties. I got as far as peeling the carrots. I have a lovely big butcher's knife which is just wonderful for dicing carrots & potatoes & anything else that the bread knife won't cope with ~ & which, most fortunately, is almost always pretty blunt. Yes, there was blood. Lots & lots of blood. I danced around the kitchen with my thumb pinched between the fingers of my other hand & a wad of tissue to stem the flow while Star rushed for bandaides & dettol & reminded me that she is a much more sympathetic nurse than I am [which is true! ☺] .
"It's a conspiracy," she said as she shooed me firmly out of the kitchen. "If you don't want to cook, say so. There's no need to go to such extremes!"
I went. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth!