Been a Mad, Mad Girl
I realize this may be a "So what?" moment for some people. But you have to know me. Have you ever lived with a person who could drop, say, a sock or magazine on the floor and happily ignore it until it fossilized and melded with the linoleum? I do that. You know that thing called "making the bed"--what is that about? And although I do the dishes fairly regularly, I have to make little deals with myself, like, "You want a cup of tea? Not until you wash that mug in the sink." It's rather sad, but I've learned to live with myself. Unfortunately, my husband, who is something of a neat freak, hasn't had nearly as much time to come to terms with this slob called wife.
Just a second--time to take off my mask and turn my doughs.
Okay, I'm back. Wow, the dough that I made extra hydrated is looking like a milkshake puddle on the kitchen counter while the firm dough is standing a little too stiffly at attention. I hope I didn't go overboard. I'm feeling pessimistic because the banana cake I baked earlier came out gross. YES, there is such a thing as over-overripe bananas. I guess the mist of fruit flies drifting over the blackened lumps should have given it away... I'm kidding. I am. But you know what alarmist bananas are, going from Spring Green to Diseased Bumblebee overnight. Since there was still yellow visible, I thought they were doing okay. But, blech, you can smell and taste the over-overripeness of them in the cake. It's actually bitter. Very disappointing.
Anyhow, this unnatural desire to clean and tidy up (yes, I even picked up the sock petrifying on the floor; no, I did not make the bed), to be an admirable and organized homemaker, all these weird feelings will mercifully dissipate, most likely by tomorrow. Or now.