Soooo. I took today off. I went to the doctor yesterday and got some shots. And shots always make me weird. The last time (before this one) that I got shots was when I was getting vaccines to go to India.
My mom had never really done the vaccine thing. And I have lived a long (23!) healthy life thus far. So when I went for India vaccines I had to get somewhere around 8 shots. Of course I was wienery because before that I’d only had shots as an infant, and I don’t really remember those. However, after the nurse gave me 6/8 shots I was supposed to get, my body went into some sort of shock. I started shivering uncontrollably, threw up halfway on the nurse halfway in a trash can, then passed out. I woke up to her trying to get me to drink juice and blaming me for my episode because I hadn’t eaten enough. She gave me the rest of the shots in a pill and a nasal spray. Ew.
Meanwhile Sean was in the waiting room wondering why I was taking forever!
You can see why a few shots at the doctor were freaking me out yesterday. So I get shot (bam!) and head home. And about as soon as I get out of my car and into my apartment I start to feel warbly. That’s a mix of weird and wobbly. Sean came home early, and took care of me in a sort or fashion. Because I was like a drunk two-year-old.
Well, this morning I still felt a little warbly so I decided to stay home. Mostly because I didn’t want to drive under the influence of warble. 🙂
After cleaning the bathrooms, I thought it would be a good idea to bake cookies. Like I’ve said before, there’s always cookie stuff on hand at our apartment.
I found a new recipe online which was similar to others I’ve made with just a few changes. On the final bullet point instruction it said, “Cover baking sheet with parchment paper or silicon mat and scoop cookies in 1 1/2 tbsp rounds onto pan.” Or something like that.
Sean called shortly after to say he was on his way home. Good timing. He’d arrive home right as the warm cookies were coming out of the oven. As I turned pick up my phone I noticed grey smoke billowing out of the stove burner that connects to the oven. BLAH!
I quickly told Sean, “I can’t talk. The oven’s on fire.” And I dropped my phone.
I pulled out the pan, the oven vomiting smoke, and turned on the oven fan. The cookies looked fine. I open the oven, expecting something to have dropped on the bottom and caught fire. Nothing.
Then I think about the parchment paper. It looks fine. Not burnt or anything. I opened the cabinet to find that it was not parchment paper but wax paper. I didn’t think it made that much of a difference, but apparently it does.
I ended up dumping that whole batch of chocolate chip cookies into the trash, smearing melted chocolate all down the side of the trash bag. 😦 It looks like poop.
I called the now freaked out Sean back to tell him we (the cat and I) had survived. His response: “Good. I’m glad you’re ok. I was sitting here at the stoplight by Trader Joe’s thinking about all the stuff I would save if our apartment caught on fire.”
Oh, cookies, you were supposed to be my go-to baked good. Why have you shamed me so?