Lately, as Brian has had to work longer hours, I have tried to help out by cooking meals at least two times a week. I know this doesn't seem much to most women out there, but it's a lot to me. I cannot stand cooking. I can't stand feeling like I'm strapped in one room with no way out for a couple of hours. I don't like the heat. I don't like the not knowing what I'm doing, and I especially don't like the idea of the lack of flavor, or something burnt having to go down my family's throat. I'm just not a cook. Thankfully my husband doesn't mind or we'd starve to death. I DO enjoy letting him rest when he comes home, however. That makes me feel accomplished.
The other day I had to cook something. It was last minute, and it actually turned out half way decent, but I was ENRAGED in the kitchen. I wasn't angry at any particular thing, just enraged that I was cooking. I beat the ever lasting shit out of everything I was preparing. Ha!
I'm going to try it again today. I'm starting early, hoping to cook in a crock pot so the feeling of being strapped in the kitchen isn't as strong. I'm hoping it turns out so there's a feeling of accomplishment rather than a strong feeling of failure. Wish me luck. (wish the meat luck, too)