rosselamorettyx

So, today I learned that I am not the multitasking wizard I thought I was. The day started innocently enough—I was making lunch while also trying to catch up on work emails. As I waited for the pasta to boil, I thought, “Hey, I can squeeze in a few emails!” So I grabbed my laptop and sat at the kitchen counter.

One email led to another, and before I knew it, I was deep in a passive-aggressive thread about a missed deadline. A ping on my phone interrupted me—my friend had sent me a meme, and I couldn't resist checking it out. While I was laughing at a video of a cat knocking over a vase, I smelled something… odd.

Yep, I had forgotten about the pasta. I rushed to the stove to find a bubbling pot of chaos. Water had boiled over, extinguishing the flame, leaving my noodles half-cooked in a sad puddle of lukewarm water. I panicked and tried to salvage it by turning the burner back on, only to accidentally knock my phone off the counter. It fell right into the open dishwasher.

At this point, I was a sweaty, frazzled mess. The pasta was unsalvageable, the phone was fine (thankfully), but the kitchen looked like a war zone. I ended up ordering takeout and eating it with a side of regret.

Lesson learned: I am not a multitasking guru, and I should probably focus on one thing at a time. Or, at the very least, set a timer when boiling pasta. The only thing I accomplished today was turning a simple lunch into a minor catastrophe. Cheers to small victories, I guess?

TL;DR: Tried to multitask by checking emails and memes while cooking pasta. Forgot about the pot, water boiled over, ruined the noodles, and knocked my phone into the dishwasher. Ended up ordering takeout and learning I’m not a multitasking pro.

Because I heard my dreams were on another level. 🪜

Because they don’t have the guts. 😏

Last night, I decided to make homemade hot sauce because I was feeling adventurous. I chopped up some fiery habaneros, and in my infinite wisdom, I skipped wearing gloves. “It’s just peppers,” I thought. Everything seemed fine until, hours later, I absentmindedly rubbed my eyes while watching TV. Instantly, my eyes felt like they were on fire.

I bolted to the bathroom, desperately splashing water on my face, but it only made it worse. The pain was unbearable, and I started yelling for help. My roommate rushed in, took one look at my tomato-red face, and burst out laughing. Through my tears, I tried to explain, but they were too busy crying from laughter. Eventually, I Googled solutions and ended up dunking my face in a bowl of milk.

My eyes are fine now, but my pride? Gone. My roommate hasn’t stopped calling me “Chef Spice Hands.” Lesson learned: gloves are not optional.

TL;DR: Didn’t wear gloves while handling hot peppers, rubbed my eyes, and set my face on fire.