Oh, I’m not so good in the kitchen…

I try really hard to do a great job cooking, but I am not what you would call one who achieves in this arena. My boyfriend actually convinced me at one point that water could be burned. He’s really good at making me believe ridiculous things and there’s always that moment when I go, “That’s just not true” but in the back of my brain a little voice is saying “But maybe it is true” and as I reach for my phone to Google it, his laughter becomes uncontrollable and I immediately act as though I never believed it (unconvincingly, I might add). Not that this has anything to do with my cooking skills. It has a lot more to do with how gullible I am, but the fact that it’s in here will make sense in a second.

I have super ADD, the can’t-finish-a-sentence-without-talking-about-something-entirely-different type.  I did stand-up for a two second period years ago and the only really brilliant joke that I came up with was to end my set by saying “I have ADD, so I get really distract—” and then I’d walk off the stage. I find myself jumping topics faster than even I can keep up with and switching activities without even realizing I’m doing it. I’m lucky that my boyfriend is such an excellent cook, who deals with my vegetarianism by cooking me my own meal and then making his (sweetest guy ever, right?), or else we’d starve. I get really antsy while something is simmering or boiling or whatever it is that food does and I’ve been known to leave the room. Permanently.

Since he does all the cooking now, I offer to help and he always counters with a great deal of skepticism,  “Are you actually going to help this time? Or are you going to help ‘your way?'” And I always insist that this time will be different, that this time I’ll be useful. And then he’ll ask me to do something simple (this is an actual example) like take out a piece of cheese and cut a bun in half and I’ll gear up, all proud of what I’m about to accomplish and  just as I’m about to complete these requests, I’ll find myself in the living room talking to the cats and before I can run back in and redeem myself, he’ll shout from the kitchen “Where ARE you? Did you do what I asked? Nope!” Fail.

Every. Single. Time.