Ugh.
I had to make this herbed cheesecake thing (it's a cheese ball, with cream cheese in it) for a party I'm not going to, because my mom "thought it would be fun" for me. Okay. Party's on Saturday. I might be dog-sitting on Friday night, in which case I will go to my aunt and uncle's house straight after work -- except they haven't emailed to tell me whether or not that's actually going to happen, yet.
I got home at five but had an inconvenient amount of time there because my mom had forgotten to grab a bag on her way out the door this morning and needed me to bring it to her a little before six. So I didn't start the cheeseball thing. Then the gloves, which were all she apparently needed the bag for, weren't in the bag. I found them later when I got home, on the floor right inside the door. Fff.
Then I started to work on the damn cheese thing as soon as I got home, but my dad pulled up five minutes after me. He puttered in, asked if i needed anything, and there was: thyme. But when he asked me how much I needed I thought he meant time, as in, how long is this going to take so we can discuss whether we should go out to eat now or later… but he got testy because he was just asking about the herb. So he went out to get that, comes back in and is like, "are you starting that now because we should go eat soon" JUST as i put the sour cream in the mixing bowl.
I gave him this deer-in-the-headlights look, and maybe that pissed him off. But what the hell? When I'd tried to bring that up he'd focused on the thyme, so I'd figured he didn't mind waiting! But no, he obviously wanted to go out soon. I asked to make sure and he pulled that "well, whatever you want to do" passive aggressive shit, when he obviously meant to say "you should have known better." So I said I would put the mixing bowl in the fridge and we would go out to eat. I made that decision.
Which he didn't respond to. Instead, he went and cracked a fucking beer while I was in my room getting my coat and bag. I came out and he told me that we were going to have to wait until he finished it. And I froze, pointedly, in mid-step, and gave him an ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS look while trying not to cry.
Because ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.
Dinner was okay. He picked a Japanese restaurant that had okay sushi… Pretty sure I've had better, but maybe I was just in a bad mood. We talked about pointless, frivolous stuff and that went well.
I started on the cheese thing as soon as we got back. I got through everything except three ingredients -- garlic, because I wasn't sure how to measure three cloves worth out of a jar; parmesan cheese, because I didn't see a block actually marked "parmesan"; and fresh ground pepper because I wasn't sure of the best way to grind it without making a mess. Dad was on the phone, so I literally put these off until the last.
As soon as I ask how to measure the garlic, he walks over, takes the jar, says "move your belly" so he can get at the silverware drawer, and does it for me. (I have told him so many times that I don't learn that way, I learn by watching once, then doing it myself and getting a chance to ask, "Is this right?" Which he never fucking gives me.)
Then he stopped to wash things, to "clear the deck." Suddenly he had an apron on was The Chef in His Kitchen, which is not what I wanted or asked for at all. I just needed help with three things! I kept saying things like, "I was going to do that" and "It's getting late, I really want to get this in the oven," and he kept shutting me down with "Well I'm doing it" and a lecture about how when he cooks he has all the ingredients laid out before he starts.
He did the same do-not-tell thing with the cheese, chopping it (not grinding, not what I asked about) in the food processor which I am perfectly capable of doing myself if told that's the best course of action. While he was getting into that I asked about the pepper, just to do it on my own and make things go faster. His answer was to grind directly into the mixing bowl and eyeball the amount. Which I am terrible at. So I ground it onto a plate instead and pinched it into the measuring spoon… Should've used wax paper. Oh well.
By that point, he wandered off and I did the dishes. See, when I do dishes, it's usually when I have a natural break in what I'm going. Like when something is in the oven for AN HOUR, or while something simmers in a pan for five minutes, or whatever. Seriously.
This is exactly why I am a lazy jerk and weasel out of doing any non-baking cooking at home, because it happens every fucking time. If I don't know where to find an ingredient I'm either told to "look for it" or Mr. Personality rolls in and fucking takes over. It's just not allowed to be my kitchen.
And I am going to miss my self-imposed bedtime and god help anyone who tries to tell me that they function on less than eight hours because all I know is that less than that makes me feel shitty and I got tired of hearing that in highschool. /grumpy
I've got confirmation on dog-sitting tomorrow, though. That makes me happy.
I got home at five but had an inconvenient amount of time there because my mom had forgotten to grab a bag on her way out the door this morning and needed me to bring it to her a little before six. So I didn't start the cheeseball thing. Then the gloves, which were all she apparently needed the bag for, weren't in the bag. I found them later when I got home, on the floor right inside the door. Fff.
Then I started to work on the damn cheese thing as soon as I got home, but my dad pulled up five minutes after me. He puttered in, asked if i needed anything, and there was: thyme. But when he asked me how much I needed I thought he meant time, as in, how long is this going to take so we can discuss whether we should go out to eat now or later… but he got testy because he was just asking about the herb. So he went out to get that, comes back in and is like, "are you starting that now because we should go eat soon" JUST as i put the sour cream in the mixing bowl.
I gave him this deer-in-the-headlights look, and maybe that pissed him off. But what the hell? When I'd tried to bring that up he'd focused on the thyme, so I'd figured he didn't mind waiting! But no, he obviously wanted to go out soon. I asked to make sure and he pulled that "well, whatever you want to do" passive aggressive shit, when he obviously meant to say "you should have known better." So I said I would put the mixing bowl in the fridge and we would go out to eat. I made that decision.
Which he didn't respond to. Instead, he went and cracked a fucking beer while I was in my room getting my coat and bag. I came out and he told me that we were going to have to wait until he finished it. And I froze, pointedly, in mid-step, and gave him an ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS look while trying not to cry.
Because ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.
Dinner was okay. He picked a Japanese restaurant that had okay sushi… Pretty sure I've had better, but maybe I was just in a bad mood. We talked about pointless, frivolous stuff and that went well.
I started on the cheese thing as soon as we got back. I got through everything except three ingredients -- garlic, because I wasn't sure how to measure three cloves worth out of a jar; parmesan cheese, because I didn't see a block actually marked "parmesan"; and fresh ground pepper because I wasn't sure of the best way to grind it without making a mess. Dad was on the phone, so I literally put these off until the last.
As soon as I ask how to measure the garlic, he walks over, takes the jar, says "move your belly" so he can get at the silverware drawer, and does it for me. (I have told him so many times that I don't learn that way, I learn by watching once, then doing it myself and getting a chance to ask, "Is this right?" Which he never fucking gives me.)
Then he stopped to wash things, to "clear the deck." Suddenly he had an apron on was The Chef in His Kitchen, which is not what I wanted or asked for at all. I just needed help with three things! I kept saying things like, "I was going to do that" and "It's getting late, I really want to get this in the oven," and he kept shutting me down with "Well I'm doing it" and a lecture about how when he cooks he has all the ingredients laid out before he starts.
He did the same do-not-tell thing with the cheese, chopping it (not grinding, not what I asked about) in the food processor which I am perfectly capable of doing myself if told that's the best course of action. While he was getting into that I asked about the pepper, just to do it on my own and make things go faster. His answer was to grind directly into the mixing bowl and eyeball the amount. Which I am terrible at. So I ground it onto a plate instead and pinched it into the measuring spoon… Should've used wax paper. Oh well.
By that point, he wandered off and I did the dishes. See, when I do dishes, it's usually when I have a natural break in what I'm going. Like when something is in the oven for AN HOUR, or while something simmers in a pan for five minutes, or whatever. Seriously.
This is exactly why I am a lazy jerk and weasel out of doing any non-baking cooking at home, because it happens every fucking time. If I don't know where to find an ingredient I'm either told to "look for it" or Mr. Personality rolls in and fucking takes over. It's just not allowed to be my kitchen.
And I am going to miss my self-imposed bedtime and god help anyone who tries to tell me that they function on less than eight hours because all I know is that less than that makes me feel shitty and I got tired of hearing that in highschool. /grumpy
I've got confirmation on dog-sitting tomorrow, though. That makes me happy.