It's a good bet that I feel secure in my own skin otherwise I wouldn't show you the aftermath of a lovely afternoon of Christmas baking.
I begin neatly, and then things just happen. I stop to water the plants, find three bottles of pure vanilla and pause to reflect on that, then wonder when I last used that big bag of whole wheat flour.
The phone rings and I deal with those pesky snake oil sales people, run upstairs to Google how many children Mia Farrow has, all the while keeping a careful eye on the cookies.
Eventually the baking is done and when the last cookie is out of the oven, clean-up begins and the place again is pin-neat.
I'm not showing you pin-neat--but honestly, Dr. Jekyll never had a lab so pristine.
And all is well with my world.
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