Feel the wrath of Betty Crocker

Yesterday afternoon I was in a foul mood by the time I left work. I'm not sure if the moon phase had anything to do with or my impending trip to the dentist was putting me in the bad mood but something sure had put a bee in my bonnett.

By the time I walked through the door at home my mood hadn't improved. Three times someone cut me off in the 15 minute trip from the dentist to my house. The last time I actually flipped the girl off. Teach her to drop in front of me in mommy's new Lexus then slam on the brakes. "I don't care, my car's made of plastic!" accompanied the gesture.

I wasn't even 5 minutes inside the door before my blood pressure went up a little bit more. Somehow, overnight, the amount of junk piled in the living room had mulitplied about 5000x. Then I went into the kitchen. Stuff all over the countertop. Dishes in the sink.

"That's it! I'm just not going to take it anymore."

Soon I was cleaning the kitchen, doing dishes, scrubbing the stove and throwing miscellaneous empty bags, pieces of paper, etc. in the trash. It helped a little. But what really soothes the savage inside is baking.

That's right. Baking.

After I cleaned up from dinner I reached for my blueberry muffin mix and went to town. The picture above is the end result. I know it's a little blurry but eh, what can you expect from a camera phone? There's just something so therapeutic about beating the eggs together or mixing the batter that instantly calms me down. The act of mixing all of the ingrediants and having to pay attention to the recipe gets my mind off of whatever it is that is bugging me.

To keep my ass from getting any bigger, I brought the muffins in to work today to share.

"You were pissed off at something again, weren't you?", co-worker T asked as I handed the bag over to her.

"Yeah, feel the wrath of Betty Crocker."