I’m sitting at my desk trying to write. Trying to read. Feeling the general monotony of routine. Feeling my eyes grow heavier with every single word. I think about going outside for a walk, then I glance over my shoulder and alas, even though it’s only 6:30, it’s already dark. I feel tired. Empty. Drained.
Maybe I should have a glass of wine. Perhaps piece of chocolate. But none of that actually sounds good. I’m just….off.
Grounding. Baking. I need to bake. I need exact science. I need to follow directions.
I choose to bake over cooking. Cooking to me is easy. It’s an art form. It’s a little of this, a little of that. Knowing what flavors blend together. Tasting. Smelling. Not having to be so exact. It’s an experience for me.