The Trials of Heracles

Oh, how I cringe at my Sappiness Attack of yesterday.

I will never write just after watching a sappy, feelgood romance.

Obviously all that happy stuff isn't real! Nope. The movie for the realists is Dangerous Liaisons.

Because illusions are by their nature sweet.

And everyone dies in the end.

Also, it has Keanu Reeves.

Anyway. I made pancakes today. The pancakes made me realise how out of touch with reality I had become.

No, seriously.

This is what happened

1. I make batter, then realise I forgot to put in eggs.

The ingredients for pancake is milk, sugar, flour. And eggs.

How did I forget one ingredient out of a four ingredient recipe?

I. Don't. Know.

2. I put in eggs.

The batter starts to resemble rubber sap.

I make a pancake.

The taste resembles rubber sap.

I add more milk.

The pancake resembles baby puke.

I call my mother.

3. What's wrong sweetheart?

Ma! I can't make pancakes!

Okay.

I can always make pancakes! I've been making pancakes forever!

Yes sweetie. But actually, you haven't. You always try. And then you get into a murderous rage. And then I come.

What, and save the day? I don't remember any of this. I remember making pancakes. By myself.

Okay. What's wrong?

I tell her what's wrong.

She tells me what to do.

4. I add more sugar.

It tastes like rubber sap + sugar.

I add more flour.

The whisk stands up.

The pancake sticks to the non-stick pan.

I call my mother.

5. Ma! It's not working!

Honey. Have some patience. You have no patience.

I have patience! I'm here aren't I? Being patient. With the pancakes.

Okay.

I'm losing it. First I find I can't debate, now I can't even make pancakes??!!

...Sweetie, are you talking loudly and waking everyone up?

(See, I love my Mum. She just ignores my inner turmoil).

6. I add more milk. More flour. More sugar.

And cooking oil.

The pancake doesn't stick to the pan.

It doesn't taste like rubber sap.

It doesn't exactly taste like pancake either.

But who cares.

I call my mother to tell her how much I love her and blame her for my inability to make pancakes.

I go back to sleep.

See? That is real life.

But really, I have no idea how I forgot to make pancakes. It's PANCAKES for crying out loud.

The cause of ruination of my pancakes (I have to blame somebody)