I spent the entire day at my mothers', making this fantastic roasted squash soup for my party tomorrow. It's a wonderful soup. It takes 4 - 5 hours to make. It was great. It smelled so great, and it tasted great, and it was a little thick, so I asked her if she had any chicken broth. Yes, she said, and took some out of the freezer.
That was the point where I should have said, knowing, as I do, that her cooking is a little wobbly these days and some stuff in her freezer is antique, and that it's chancy at best, "Thanks, but no, I'd rather use canned." If I had said that, everything would now be fine and I would be all happy and my day would not have been completely wasted.
But instead I said, "Oh, thanks" and defrosted the chicken broth and stupidly, stupidly dumped it into my soup without tasting or even smelling it. Where it promptly turned my huge stock pot full of wonderful soup into swill. Swill that I had to throw away because I was too proud and also a little afraid to serve it, in case it killed my guests, and also it was beyond fixing. So now I have to do the. entire. fucking. thing. again. tomorrow. At a friend's house if I can find one who will entrust me with their front door key. Because I have no oven, and I haven't had an oven in months, and I may never have an oven again, and this soup requires an oven.
So tomorrow, instead of being all organized and ready, I will have to go back to the grocery store and buy all the ingredients, which aren't cheap, again, and get it all ready to be roasted, and go to a friends' house and put it in her oven for 2 1/2 hours and go home and clean frantically and go to the fancy grocery store and get good bread and cheese and etc. Instead of only having to clean up and change the batteries on the halloween decorations.
I swear I'm cursed. I am cursed. There is a black cloud over my head and it's never going away. Oh, and I shouldn't drink whisky, and if you saw the rant I posted last night, which no longer exists thank god, than you agree with me.