Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
When I saw this prompt, I immediately thought of an incident during my sophomore year of high school.
On a sunny spring Saturday afternoon, I arrived home from the library just minutes before my mom was about to come home for lunch (she worked on Saturdays during that time). I immediately began reading one of the books I had checked out. It was a very funny book, and I was completely immersed in the silliness of the story. When my mom came home a few minutes later, she was grouchy a tad irritable and tired from work. As she was preparing herself an egg salad sandwich, she was telling me about how her day had been so far. She then began to express her disappointment that I had not done anything to clean up the house.
“Nicole, this place looks like an absolute mess! I cannot believe that you have been here most of the morning and haven’t done anything! You could have at least vacuumed and washed dishes! But you didn’t even do that!”
Cleaning was the last thing I felt like doing that day. I reminded her that no, I hadn’t been home all day- that in fact, I had ventured out to the library. She was not amused by my response.
“Well, that is just great. However, tomorrow is Easter, and I would like this place to look clean for the holiday. ”
Wanting to avoid a discussion of chores with her I returned to reading my book in the living room. About five minutes later, I decided that I had better say goodbye to my mother before her lunch break ended.
When I found her, she was brushing her dark, curly hair over the bathroom sink. I told her that I would try to get some chore done in the afternoon. I then went back to the living room to continue reading my book. As my mother rushed out the door, she mentioned something about the kitchen. I was so immersed in the book that I did not catch what she had said. I then decided to retreat to my room. I pulled my light brown hair into a ponytail, and changed out of my jeans and into some gym shorts so I could relax. I continued reading my book.
An hour passed, and I was still reading. Just as I was about to turn the page, I heard a loud noise. It sounded like an explosion, and it seemed to resonate throughout the house. I did not react right away. I merely looked up from the book and looked out of my bedroom window.
A minute passed before I became curious about the cause of the noise. I slowly stood up and sauntered over to the living room. Thinking that the noise had come from outside, I walked over to the window and carefully pushed aside the beige curtains. I slowly lifted up one slat from the venetian blinds that covered the inside of the window. Nothing within my view seemed to be out of place. Having not discovered anything, I decided to walk back to my room. While strolling back to my room, I glanced at the kitchen. I stopped dead in my tracks.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!” I shouted. The kitchen was covered in egg particles. I slowly crept into the kitchen to survey the damage. There was cooked egg yolk clinging to the walls, the stove, and the countertops. There were pieces of eggshells scattered all over the kitchen tile. I then began to piece together the chain of events.
We were going to color eggs that night. The eggs she used for her sandwich came from the eggs that had been boiled to color for Easter. My mother set two eggs to boil to replace the ones she had used. Before she left for work, she was trying to tell me to shut the stovetop burner off in a few minutes.
I was in awe of how two measly eggs could make such a gigantic mess. I did not want my mom to see this mess. I stared at the clock. It read two-thirty. My mom would be home at five. I had two and one half-hours to make the kitchen look spotless.
I quickly pulled cleaning products out from under the kitchen sink: Ajax, Clorox, and Windex. I grabbed the broom, a cleaning sponge, and some paper towels. I thoroughly swept the floor. I could smell an odor floating throughout the kitchen, thanks to the eggs.
I opened all of the windows, turned on all of the fans to high, and lit three incense sticks to get rid of the odor. I then sprayed a deodorizer all over the kitchen and dining room. Then, using a knife, I began scraping egg off the walls.
I was frustrated because the eggs were not coming off the walls very easily. Using a dark green scouring pad, I vigorously scrubbed the tops of the counters and stove.
An hour had passed, and I still had a considerable amount of damage to clean up. I had not even begun to clean the kitchen tile. I must have swept the floor at least three times. Each time I swept, I discovered more egg particles.
I decided to pull the stove away from the wall. To my dismay lay many more egg particles. I was beginning to think that this was a lost cause. What really bugged me about the whole situation was that I could have prevented it if I had just listened to what my mom was telling me for five measly seconds.
Another hour passed, and the kitchen was finally back to normal. In fact, the only thing I had left to do was rewash the clean dishes that had been drying on the kitchen counter next to the sink. I wanted to make sure that all evidence of the explosion was history. I even boiled two more eggs to make up for the two that blew up. I was proud of myself. The kitchen was spotless, and I had fifteen minutes to spare.
My mother came home at exactly five thirty. The first thing she noticed was the kitchen. She was so surprised that I had meticulously cleaned the kitchen. Seeing the kitchen in such a spotless condition immediately brightened up her mood.
I decided to forgo telling her about my afternoon of fun. I eventually did- months later and she laughed her head off at me. I also convinced my mom to spring for an egg cooker upon telling her this story. 🤣
unfrazzled analyst 