will you pick up your fiddle and pray?

I wore a floor length stripy skirt today. It's made of this really soft, stretchy stuff. I got up before noon. I unloaded the dishwasher. I thought about going for a long walk, but decided to have lunch first. Then I made some fancy pasta involving bacon and peas and parmesan and chille peppers, which ended up looking like coagulated shit, and was edible to me, but which my mother tried and then walked out of the room telling me she wasn't in the mood for pasta and in fact doesn't even like pasta.

It had called for egg yolks, so I was left with some egg whites. I checked my watch, and figured I had enough time to whip up a quick meringue. Why this was my first thought is beyond me, as I have only attempted them once before, when I thought I had to whisk them by hand and ended up with a thick soup of half-burnt too-sweet egg stuck indelibly to the bottom of a pan. But I was determined, today, that I could change my fortunes. This was to be the beginning of the new, accomplished me, who wouldn't ever be a housewife but who would, goddammit, be perfectly able to create amazing deserts whenever they were called for.

So, I researched various recipies, carefully. I checked all of the ones which I have been told are reliable. The ones which have five star ratings. The ones which are supposedly awesome. I took my egg whites with the pinch of salt which they are supposed to be mixed with. I took the electric whisky. I created a cloudy substance which stood up in stiff peaks when it was supposed to. I added my sugar slowly and carefully, mixing when instructed, folding when it was called for, sifting icing sugar slowly and with care. I made sure I greased the tray. I dolloped the stuff on.

They came out coffee coloured, as instructed.

They were crisp to the touch and slightly hollow sounding, as I had been promised they ought to.

I slid them off the tray, ignoring the fact that some bits stuck to it.

I took a bite.

They were soggy, and became a hard, thick, sugary, unswallowable substance the minute they hit my toungue.

I sat on the grey floor for a while an examined my toes.

Then I went to the cupboard and got out the betty crocker chocolate cup cake mix, and I mixed up that mix, and then i poured some of the meringue goop which I hadn't cooked yet on top of tiny cupcakes of the chocolate cake stuff.

And I baked that.

And it was just fine.