Turns out, you can’t bake tequila.

November 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

While everyone else and their grandma’s get together with their grandma’s, I am alone.

Thanksgiving is one of the handful of days each year that I retreat to be totally by myself.  Quiet permeates the house and I don’t talk on the phone the whole live long day.  I don’t really put pants on, either, but that’s neither here nor there.

I sleep as late as I want, maybe go for a run (I did), and come back to make brunch for like ten people.  The only one eating is me and I am totally 100% okay with it.

Today’s festivities included peanut butter chocolate chip cookie dough.  Unlike the usual, I actually decided to bake them.  Started our amazing convection oven for preheating and cranked The Wailin’ Jenny’s.
You don’t know The Wailin’ Jenny’s?
Well.

(You’re welcome.)

As I galavanted around the casita, this very weird smell caught my attention as it grew stronger.  “What is that?”, I thought.  “Oh God, do we have a gas leak??”
The casita isn’t the youngest chick on the block and we’ve had issues with rotted doors and rats alike.  Gas leaks wouldn’t be a stretch.

It didn’t smell like gas, though.  It smelled like a burnt margarita.
Led me right to the oven.
Opened the door.
And discovered that I was trying to bake a bottle of tequila.

So, life tip: If you decide to use the oven as a storage unit for liquor, tell somebody.
Turns out glass melts and liquor leaks at high temps.

I swear, one of these days, I’m going to become an adult.

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