It is some time in 2015 at 2:34AM exactly and I am making 173 cookies.
173 gluten fucking free cookies mind you.
As the whir of the fan oven and the glare from the overhead halogen light bulbs obnoxiously remind me that I am indeed awake and this is not a nightmare, I wonder how the hell I got myself into this in the first place.
Why did the word ‘yes’ come out my mouth when really I meant ‘no’?
“No Sharon I won’t make you 173 gluten free cookies for your Goddamn wedding reception. I don’t have the time, the money or the energy and frankly I’m not sure if we’d even be friends if it weren’t for the fact that we are thrown together on a daily basis because of our jobs.”
But no, little old people pleaser over here went and said “yes, sure thing, for tomorrow? No problem.”