I Need Supervision

This is from 4 months ago when we first moved, but I think it's a good benchmark for how just about every day goes for me.

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I keep trying to be productive and listen to the little productivity gnome that lives in my head, but it’s much easier to avoid responsibility entirely. I plan out all my days with Things To Do, but failure usually happens the night before when I’m up until 3am watching Youtube videos.

Then instead of waking up at 7 like a responsible person, I roll out of bed around 10, having spent the last three hours alternating between hitting the snooze alarm and pushing the cat off me because she won’t stop kneading my bladder.

This is where I reach a crucial turning point of my day. I have to make the decision between immediately jumping into the shower or sitting down at my computer to “just check my email quickly.”

Once I sit down at my computer, my chances for doing anything productive before noon has fizzled. I start by checking my email and then check Ravelry “just to see if I have any messages, I totally won’t browse.” Then I figure while I’m here, I’ll take a “quick peek” at Facebook. This is followed by wandering over to Cracked because they posted a new article and the next thing I know, it’s after noon and I’m still naked on the sofa.

Half the time, I make the wise decision of hopping into the shower immediately. This is followed by sitting down at the computer as a reward for being so productive. Just to check my email, of course. The next thing I know, it’s after noon and I’m still naked on the sofa, but at least I’m a clean naked on the sofa!

At this point, I realize I’ve wasted half the day already and I’m “burnin’ daylight” as my dad always says. So I immediately go into Super Productivity Mode! This is also known as the Hyperactive and Easily Distracted Mode. I start by grabbing a box of stuff and putting away the contents. Halfway through, I reach an item that has no designated home yet. So I proceed to go make a home for it.

Halfway through making a home for that item, I find a box of Stuff I Need To Take Care Of Before The Weekend. Panic sets in and I rush to work on the stuff in the box because if I don’t, the world will collapse and I’ll be living under a bridge surrounded by overly cheerful hobos telling me it could be worse. (My fears are oddly specific.)

Halfway through working on this important box, I realize I need some sort of office supply and I can’t find it anywhere. So I decide now is a good time to hit the store because I also need something else, but I wanted to wait until I had more than one thing on the list because otherwise it’s just a waste of gas.

I go get the thing I need and triumphantly walk through the door. That’s when I see the thing I needed sitting on top of a bookshelf, where I put it so I wouldn’t lose it. Shortly after, I realize that I forgot about those errands I had to run today and I’m pissed because I really don’t want to have to make another trip back into town.

So I stomp over to the computer to respond to the obnoxious flashing orange bar that says I have 10,000 AIM messages that I received while I was out. That’s when I trip over the box of stuff that started this whole mess, scattering its contents across the floor.

I respond by kicking the box across the room and accidentally into the one spot a cat was sleeping. The cat bolts out of her hidey-hole and spazzes across the kitchen counter, leaving destruction in her wake.

This leads to me having to go clean up the mess, using the empty box I just kicked as a ”I’ll stick it here for now and take care of it later” because I have Important Stuff To Do.

I sit back down at the computer and remember that I have a couple job applications to finish. So I finish those and go to print them, but then remember that I had unhooked the printer to move it to its permanent home. So I have to hook it back up. But the spot where the printer goes is covered in stuff that I didn’t finish unpacking the previous day. So I grab an empty box (we have a lot right now) and toss it all in. I hook up the printer and go to print out my applications and resumes.

Ding! We’re out of resume paper! I check the closing dates on the jobs and decide I’d better hit the store so I can turn the application in today. On my way out, I trip over the strewn stuff from the box I originally intended to unpack. I grab another empty box, toss it all in, then run out the door.

I get back from the store and print out my applications and resumes. I discover I have no pen, so I dig in some boxes for pens and along the way, discover a pad of resume paper. I grumble and sign the stuff, then get it all ready and run back out to turn the applications in.

I get home and realize:

1. I have been to town three times and haven’t once done any of my errands.
2. Instead of emptying one box, I have actually filled two.
3. All the items I had to run to the store to buy were in the first box of stuff I was trying to unpack.

And thus has been the last week of my life.

More Vintage Gelatin Horror

This time it was a Salmon Loaf recipe from a 1929 Knox cookbook and Shrimp Chili Mold recipe from a 1955 Knox cookbook. As you can see, my unmolding skills are still a little rusty. The awesome vintage fish mold I have lost all its fine detail and the result looks somewhat like a diseased penis.

The Salmon Loaf wasn't as bad as Chicken Salad Surprise, but it was still bad enough that I spit out my bite. The Shrimp Chili Mold was really bland, but there was still heat from the cayenne, so it was a rather unpleasant experience. I didn't spit it out though; it wasn't that bad. However, it wasn't good enough to keep the rest. There's going to be some happy raccoons tonight.

Vintage Jello Recipes: A Tale of Horror

A little while ago, someone dared me to make a Jello mold with hot dogs shaped like octopi and carrots shaped like goldfish. So I did. Naturally, this only led to me wanting to make more horrible things. I've been collecting old Jello and Knox Gelatine cookbooks for a while now and there's plenty of horrible things for me to try.

Why? You may ask, your eyes widening in horror. Well, intellectually I figure it's only right to try out these recipes. After all, if I'm going to make fun of them, I should at least know whether they are as horrible as they seem or are actually quite good and I'm misplacing my disgust. It's also a bit of an art form. How many times do we have the same mediocre meals, week in and week out? Seeking out something truly revolting that's printed with authority as food is, well, artful.

Also, because I thought it would be hilariously cool.

My first recipe was Chicken Salad Surprise from the 1965 edition of Joys of Jello. It features chicken, pecans, celery, sour cream, garlic salt, pepper, wine vinegar, and grated onion suspended in lemon (or orange) Jello. Then cut into cubes and placed on a salad with olives and pineapple tidbits.

If you took the lemon Jello out of the equation, it wouldn't be so bad. Minus the olives. I hate olives. Something about the lemon flavor in the Jello makes this the most rancid thing on earth. Actually, it was the lemon Jello and garlic salt. That right there is one of the most revolting things I've ever smelled.

I set up my salad, took an obligatory bite, and promptly spit it out in the sink. Now I have a whole pan of this stuff that is too gross to eat and the cats won't even touch. Nor will spouse, who declared hearing about my experience was enough proof.