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I have two problems that always, always compound each other:

1. I eat when I’m upset.
2. I’m bad at cooking when I’m upset.

This leads to some awful, awful things.

Last November, I said something on the phone without totally thinking, and then thought I hurt somebody’s feelings. I then made some French toast that was somehow charred on the outside and soggy in the middle. I also set off the fire alarm in my grandmother’s condo.

One incident with a pie led me to spend the night in a hospital for observation.

And then today, I burned EVERY EGG in my apartment — seven total eggs — and two ciabatta rolls trying to make myself a sandwich. I scrambled three, then put them in the pan and whoops, burned. Trash, pan scraped, more butter, three more eggs on the stove. Whoops, the ciabatta roll in the toaster is burned to a carbon block. Trash, roll #2 cut and in the toaster, with some cheese on it this time. Uh oh, didn’t look at the eggs and now, yeah, they’re burned too.

Down to my last and final egg. I get a new pan out, the little one since it’s just one egg, and scramble it up, perfectly and evenly heat the pan and melt the butter, drop in the egg and oh crap, the cheese melting on the bread has fallen off and is sizzling goop on the heating element in the bottom of the toaster oven and smoke is starting to collect inside the toaster. Yep, that bread is ruined. Gotta focus on this egg. Focus. Focus. Focus. Almost ready, time to get the salt and pepper shakers out while the egg is still raw enough that it really sticks in there and whoops. Entire salt shaker slips out of my butter-greased hand and plops into the frying pan.

I had a bad day at work. A bad conversation after.  And then I can’t even make a damn egg sandwich.

So now I’m having a Maker’s Mark. But I’ll probably figure out a way to ruin that too.

Things are not looking up.