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My Cooking Adventure
Today I declared war
on my own laziness—
no more delivery apps,
no more surrender.
I would conquer pasta.
First victory:
water bubbling on the stove.
Time to add salt—
but my hand betrayed me,
half the shaker tumbling
into innocent water.
The pot became
a miniature Dead Sea.
Fine, I muttered,
tossed in the pasta
and drifted to my phone,
already tasting glory—
al dente perfection.
Minutes melted by.
Then—the horror:
pasta demands attention.
I returned to witness
culinary catastrophe:
noodles welded together,
a starchy sculpture of regret—
a twisted monument
to my distraction.
Deep breath.
Sauce will save this.
Sauce fixes everything.
Oil hit the pan—
high heat, quick work.
I disappeared
into curated breakfasts
and filtered perfection.
Then—
the sharp scent
of disaster.
I sprinted back
to find my kitchen
staging its own revolt:
oil blackened,
pan smoking,
alarm shrieking
accusations.
Heroically grabbed the pan
with hands unburdened
by common sense—
a yelp that would shame
any wounded animal
echoing through
my foolish pride.
Twenty minutes later,
kitchen scrubbed clean,
dignity in ruins,
I opened the app
and ordered surrender—
extra hot,
with a side of humility.
Sometimes the best lessons
arrive through smoke.
Sometimes, the kitchen
is wiser than you.
Copyright ©
Aryan Koushan
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