It's all brown to me

On Monday I was making dressings at work. I mistakenly grabbed the Worcestorshire sauce instead of the balsamic and whisked that up with the mustard and oil. It was pale brown and tasted vile. To fix it I just tipped in two cups of balsamic (which is in the same shaped plastic bottle; anyone could make that mistake!) which effectively masked the Worcestorshire sauce taste and turned it the proper blackish brown shade. Saved my arse. Unless someone from work is reading this, in which case I have effectively fired myself. I'm not sure what's wrong with me at the moment, but I seem to be making mistakes left and right. But I didn't burn anything! That anyone knows about. Tea towels aren't food at least. It is a funny thing to see a wooden spoon on fire. You just don't expect it.

It's also very bizarre reading the Epicure's jobs section and discovering your workplace is looking for a new someone. I thought I really was fired for a second because at first glance I just saw GAS-need-breakfast-cook and thought that this was one of those B movie moments where the tragic eventual hero discovers he has well and truly hit rock bottom in a most brutal fashion. Then I remembered that I haven't cooked breakfast since my last day there before giving birth, which was of course the worst work day of my life. I'm a 'general' cook. I hope they find someone nice, efficient and not me for the breakfast cook position.

If any of you ever do end up hiring me in the future for some reason or other, I'm not really like this all the time. Generally I'm known for being at least somewhat quick and creative in the kitchen. And when not pregnant or spending my entire days away from my baby son, the only things I ever burn are my own flesh and the fine hairs off the back of my hand. You don't even realise they're there till you've burned them off.