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  • Writer's pictureThe Baker

And so it starts.

Dec. 4th, 2022

Cried from feeling useless, pointless, bored and insecure. Worried I ruined my husband's life by marrying him. Felt pretty hopeless and wept like an emotionally disturbed child, not caring about anything. Made sure to sit on the chair with the blanket covering so as not to dirty indoor furniture with still sweaty leggings from morning workout.

Randomly remembered drunk behavior at birthday party two nights ago and was thus re-overcome with despair at intoxicated blabberings to friend about his ex girlfriend. Felt very guilty.

Stood up and walked to pantry, stared into it's overstocked abyss and contemplated comfort eating. Saw old can of pumpkin puree from previous thanksgiving pie aspirations last year. Struck with inspiration to bake friend an I'm Sorry cake. Googled pumpkin spice cake vegan and selected this one:

Assembled ingrédients and substitute ingredients for the things we didn't have. There were several, including can opener needed to access pumpkin puree. Recalled previous ingenuity when I broke into a can of corn whose lid puller upper had broken off. Retrieved pocket knife from drawer and went to town hacking and pushing tin open until an adequate sized hole was formed and I was able to encourage blobs of pumpkin out of the can and into the measuring cup with the handle of a spoon.

After that, I dumped the 1 roughly measured cup of pumpkin puree into a large bowl and conducted a brief search for broken off pieces of metal can within the pumpkin puree, just in case.

The rest of cake assembly was uneventful. Plopped mixture into two different sized round tins used previously to make kubaneh, as we have no others.

Felt a brief surging sense of accomplishment while gazing into oven at cake tins, 1 large, 1 not so large. Carried this sense of accomplishment into motivation to shower from this morning's workout. Tried not to let existential dread seep in when I noticed it getting dark at goddamn 4 pm.

Got out of shower and moisturized my flesh prison and took cakes out of oven. Poked at slightly overdone top of cakes. Contemplated eating a slice, felt nauseous, and went upstairs to lay down from exertions.

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