Tonight I made dirt cake cups with little dinos instead of gummy worms. (How does a store not stock regular gummy worms? THIS IS AMERICA!) I always loved this dessert since I was a kid—somehow I remember it being served in cake cones as a birthday treat—and made it a couple times for my old office. This time I had a classic food processor mishap where I shot Oreo crumbs all over my previously clean kitchen (it’s fine, whatever). The cups are going to my husband’s all-hands work meeting tomorrow (I offered!) but I ate all the leftover pudding from the bowl and I did not share.
Is there such a thing as emotional cooking? When I embarked on this I didn’t think it was about my feelings but now I see it kinda was. I am tired of dealing with jerks and their jerk opinions about the shutdown and I feel for everyone who is either at home not getting paid, or (worse?) at work not getting paid right now. And if you’re the jerk who needs to tell those people their jobs "aren’t that important” or that they “should’ve saved up” for this emergency, then I hope you stub your toe every morning when you get out of bed. I’m gonna retire to the couch with a book and hope to find fewer jerks in the future.
