Batter Splatter

“And the next time you leave me with no gas and no money when I have to drive for miles on end hurtling thru the night, blindly, BARELY on a wing and a prayer, with only corn fields and river banks on either side, both of which could easily harbor murderers, rapists and other various escaped convicts along with boogeyman, scary monsters and probe-loving aliens, who could rape and pillage me to death when I run outta gas on this desolate road, I will DEFINITELY haunt you!”
After receiving THAT text from me Brian apologized for not putting gas in the car and I grudgingly accepted. I did not, however, forgive him and I went to sleep angry. I usually do in cases like this. What’s the point? Brian won’t argue with me. Needless to say, my dreams were vivid, active and scary (except for the brief one where I received a grin and a wink along with a piping hot, comforting Caramel Macchiato from a Starbucks Barista who was a dead ringer for Nathan Fillion -that was a good one!) and I woke up untested, weary and tense.

All day long I was frazzled and stressed. I KNEW I had to make cupcakes for work and for an order. Once home and I began assembling my ingredients, I realized that I had NO powdered sugar for the frosting. I steadied myself, taking a DEEEP breath. Then I poured some wine into a Mason jar and after a few long, throat-and-esophagus-burning glugs I felt a bit better.

I returned to my mixing bowl, deciding to focus just on the batter for now. To my horror, the bowl began floating. Off the counter, straight up in the air it went just before taking a terrifying tip and then it fell smack on the floor. I swear that is how it happened. It could just be a coping mechanism, my imagining things in order to assign blame elsewhere, deflecting it from myself. Could also be the ½ glass of Mason jar wine I swigged? Who knows? The thick cherry flavored cake batter splattered everything on its slo-mo downward arc. The counter, the dishwasher, the fridge, cabinets and me.

Right then Brian came home. What a sight he beheld. In the middle of the kitchen, Brian faced a wild-eyed maniac with shiny red goo glopping and streaking her hair, face, clothes and hands. It was a very “Law and Order” opening scene kinda gruesome-looking moment. “I have no powdered sugar.” was the odd phrase I decided to greet him with. He oh so grudgingly agreed to make a Kroger run for me.

At the door, Brian turned to me and said, “You’re minus one Slurpee now.” (I’ll explain that another day.)

“Oh no! NO SIR! I am minus NOTHING!! This is a gimme!”

“What?! Why is it ‘a gimme?”

“Because I am still pissed at you for last night! No GAS in the car?! REMEMMMMBER?! ” To which Brian responded that he was pissed at me and then I told him that was reaaal mature, “You can’t be mad at me just because I am mad at you!” I squalled.

“Who doesn’t check the gas gage?!”

“WHA!? It wouldn’t have mattered if I had checked the friggin GAS GAGE! I!! HAVE!! NO!! MONNNEEEYYYY!! How was I supposed to get gas?! WITH MY MAGICAL POWERS?!? JUST go and get my *bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” POWDERED SUGAR, you*bleep*hole!!”

He SLAMMED the door and was off.

I cleaned up my mess then started the cherry cakes allll over again. To my dismay, the second batch of cupcakes did not turn out either. I was beginning to think my cakes were cursed. By 1am I was pulling out the THRID and mildly successful (they baked up weird but they BAKED UP so …yay.) and final batch. Whipping up the frosting was uneventful thank goodness. After a shower, I crawled into bed not at all sleepy OR relaxed. Brian noted that I was sighing a lot (I do that when I’m stressed, angry or nervous) and asked if I was still tense. Well, I was also still upset with him for being all argumentative when I sooo did not need home to be so I just bit my tongue and nodded. I was resigned to the fact that I would be going to bed angry again.

Suddenly, the lights snapped off. “Hey! What are you“my book was pulled gently from y hands and I was being guided into a sitting position. I huffed and heaved a GIANT sigh. Did the guy have a death wish? CLEAAARRLY I was NOT. IN. THE. MOTHER. FUDGING. MOOOOD-uh!! To my surprise and to Brian’s credit, I was getting a back, shoulder and neck rub! YAY! And he wanted, or asked for anyway, NOTHING in return.

So off to a happily sleep I drifted, dreaming only of meadows and, ok more Nathan Fillion.

After only 3.5 hours of sleep, I am loop, silly and gigglier than EVER today and I am warning everyone who eats the cupcakes that I hauled into the office this a.m. that they were NOT made with love and care. Oh no. These cakes are full of hatred, spite and cuss words.

I only hope they don’t taste bitter.