I accidentally doubled bits of a recipe whilst trying to make brioche last night. It totally ruined my day, but it was one of those on-top-of-everything-else things, because baking is what I do to make everything else better, and then, when I fuck that up? I didn't know what to do, so I texted the boy and told him to make it all better.
The worst part of it is, it's all stuff I'm doing to myself. When things are going badly, like they are for my brother, who's just had his nose broken via a suckerpunch to the schnozz by a crackhead for no fucking reason, it's easier to feel sorry for yourself because the universe is obviously against you (because he's working the wrong job and living in the wrong city and just dropped out of school and maybe that's weighing on my mind a little bit, even though it's not my life).
Usually, I'll go for a run when I get to that point of wanting to scream, "Why don't you shoot me in the motherfucking face?" at every passerby who stares as I pass by, but I'd spent the 20 minutes I had allotted to destressing figuring out why my dough wasn't turning into a shiny, happy ball o' brioche-to-be.
And work has not been going well for boring, boring reasons, that all have to do with my level of exhaustion, which probably also contributed to my reading 250ml of lukewarm whole milk as 500ml of lukewarm whole milk. Wtf, baker's dyslexia?
Then my kitchen faucet stopped working correctly, reducing its stream to baby tears while I tried to wash away my mistakes. Then I couldn't find a wrench to fix the faucet. Then I got to work and had a note about the terrible job I did the night before, after a week of doing a terrible job at my other jobs, and I'm REALLY PMSY ON TOP OF FUCKING EVERYTHING ELSE, OK??! so BACK. OFF.
I tried doubling the rest of the ingredients and eventually just threw it in the fridge hoping it would have mercy and rise appropriately. You don't hope for the best when it comes to brioche, but I don't really care anymore because the boy managed to make it all better (hint: sex! Sex makes everything better!).
Did I mention that the boy got me a present when he was out antiquing with his mum? Two aprons, one pink gingham, one yellow and ruffly, and he's pretty great, and he's taking me on a proper date tomorrow, and he's accompanying me to a birthday potluck on Sunday, and he's definitely the only thing good about this week.