Pre-Emptive Confession and/or Current Panic Attack

So Ann wanted to bake something for me to take to work tomorrow. She also had to do some shopping tonight. So she mixed it up and put it in the oven and set the timer, and told me that when the timer went off, I should do the thing where you check the doneness with a toothpick.

If it seemed like x, it was done. If it seemed like y, give it 7 more minutes. If it seemed like z, give it 15 more minutes. At most, if it still wasn’t done, it had to top out at 25 minutes beyond the initial timer.

Got it.

Except when I did the toothpick thing, it seemed halfway between my mental images for y and z. I gave it 10 more minutes.

It still wasn’t done. I gave it 7 more minutes based on the toothpick test.

It still wasn’t done. I gave it 5 more minutes based on the toothpick test. I started to worry because that was going to put me up to 22 of the max 25.

At the 4-minute mark of that 5-minute span, it started to smell like something might be burning. I pulled it out. It’s done, but it looks darker than it should and I can still faintly smell that burnt smell.

I’m terrified that I’ve ruined the cake, but as you can see, I followed instructions pretty well and did my best.

She’ll be home any time now. She won’t freak out on me — she’s much cooler than that. I just hope I didn’t really mess it up.

I think she’s pulling in.


Let’s see how I did.

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