It's Monday When the Rice Is On Fire

Hello, Monday.

We meet again. I see that somehow you caught my pot of boiling water on fire. I didn't know that was possible. It feels counter-intuitive to everything I learned in Chemistry class. Then again, I didn't do very well in Chemistry, so perhaps I merely glossed over the chapter on "Burning Water."

But I don't think I did.

Monday, I see that you and Sunday Night were in cahoots. Last night, I almost vomited up my lunch because a woefully misinformed cupcake vendor told me that my cupcake was gluten-free. It wasn't, Monday. Not at all.

After my water caught on fire, which I still don't believe, I added my rice. Five minutes later, against all odds, my rice started burning. It was my last cup of rice, Monday. But I think you knew that.

I wanted to make the perfect macrobiotic lunch to make up for my sinning on Sunday. I felt bad about that cupcake. It was wicked and wrong. But now that my last rice is gone, I'll probably have to make bean burritos with Chinese bok choi, and do you have any idea how gross that sounds? They're not even from the same continent.

So here's the deal, Monday. I'm going to make my bok choi. I'm going to do something about the fact that the only other things in the pantry right now are capers and carrots, and I'm going to throw everything in a pot and call it soup.

And next Monday, when I'm at home, I'm going to have my mom cook for me. And you won't be able to stop me.

Becky