There are times

When people decide to cook lunch. An offer most benevolent and indeed difficult to refuse but the aftermath resembles a Bastille after storming. The kitchen looks like it just witnessed a mass execution what with most of the utensils and dishes piled high in the sink. Pools of water on the floor, spices strewn over kitchen counters and minute splashes of gravy Jackson Pollocking the stove surface; not least because the dishes prepared are almost always of the exotic variety cooked while a chef on YouTube talks a novice cook through it.

I end up spending more time cleaning the kitchen than I would cooking and it leaves me a bit frustrated because it's been only 24 hours since I scrubbed my entire kitchen tiles and chimney and the works clean with soda and vinegar.
Redoing the entire exercise does make me want to wield a hatchet most randomly at another's neck.

I know it's the gestures that count and usually I end up assuming the souls chef role cleaning all the dishes as they're used so that the end result is a sparkling shiny kitchen but then again, if I have to do all this why don't I just cook..

Ah well Sunday's then.

I'm still waiting for the technician to install my new ac unit and he'll come by 3:00pm and now I feel like I'm slowly moving away from a zen mood into a holocaust predator.