Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Cooking is work.
The only thing that feels like work is cooking. I'm done with organic food. There is a worm in the salad... ( so there are worms in salad ) , the chicken's got more feather than usual.
I got the mix, I put the wings and drumsticks in the bag, I shake it, so far so good. Then I rememberd they say it's good to put it in the fridge for a few hours. As I opened the fridge door I said to myself "fuck it - I'm not waiting around for the damn chicken to do whatever." So I fried it right away. Oh God it took so long. It took so damn long for the skin to be crispy. I keep thinking how I should just go to KFC from now. I don't know why I got a frying pot. I shouldn't. What else am I going to fry when frying takes so long.
I got the fried chicken and as usual it doesn't taste very good. I dip them in hot sauce so they're at least edible. Then I spent half time eating and the other half plucking thin feathers/hair that was still attached to the skin. All the while wishing I never bought any of it in the first place.
And last step, cleaning. There is so much oil. I had to clean the sink again. I have to take the trash out soon cause chicken bones are trouble. It's just. The heat, the oil, the skin, the feather... I just... no more.
I'm honestly exhausted. I really don't want to cook anymore. It's so bad. It's work, it's SUCH work. All the time I just hoped "please be over, please soon be over"...
I can't cook, diary. It's not worth it to go this length to feed myself.
I don't know what is it that I can eat. I don't...
God I don't want to cook anymore. It's hard, the food isn't tasty, and the cleanup.
It's so miserable.
I'm so tired.