| 1. | having attained full size and strength; grown up; mature: an adult person, animal, or plant. |
| 2. | of, pertaining to, or befitting adults. |
| 3. | intended for adults; not suitable for children: adult entertainment. |
Dictionary.com has this one all wrong.
I am basting in a paste of tahini, pepper, salt, and self loathing. It smells like hummus, but it is not delicious. It is sad, and I have no one to blame but myself.
I didn't work today. I called in sick because at 3p.m. yesterday, I was sick. I had a fever, and my current place of employment requires me to give 24 hour notice for calling in sick. After about 15 hours of R&R I felt well enough to make myself some dinner. Both of my roommates were out and I had the kitchen all to myself. I defrosted a vegetarian chicken cutlet in the microwave and popped it into the toaster while I defrosted an english muffin and took out the barbeque sauce. It isn't the type of meal that would tempt the typical palate--this occured to me as I stared at the black metal things turn red in the toaster. I decided to make homemade hummus. Not to go with the chicken, but maybe for later. I took out the chick peas, the sea salt, the can opener, the hand held blender, the tahini, garlic, chopping knife, and olive oil. As soon as I put the sea salt, chick peas, olive oil, and garlic in the bowl the toaster popped. I put the english muffin in and a slice of provolone (to give the "chicken" a zing). I proceeded to blend the chick peas a bit. Tahini! I had forgotten the tahini. I opened the new can of tahini ( oily paste made of sesame seed) I'd bought several weeks earlier and stared agitatedly at the near solid mass that had formed. There was no expiration date to be found, and I decided that if I could stir it I could eat it. I stuck in a metal spoon and stirred with all my might. Just as my agitation had reached its peak the spoon came free and tahini sauce splashed across my face and chest, bangarang. At this opertune moment the door bell rang. I picked up the intercom to find a delivery man on the other end--wrong apartment. I returned to the kitchen to find my cheese burned off my "chicken" to the bottom of the toaster. I picked it up, burnt my fingers, and placed it on the english muffin. I applied the barbeque sauce, without incident. I should have called it quits and eaten my meal, but I have a slight OCD about cleaning the kitchen before eating so that I can do as little work as possible after the meal. At this point I had only wiped the tahini off my face. It was still on my shirt and neck. It wasn't a bad smell, but it wasn't entirely pleasing. I blended the rest of the hummus. Spices! I almost forgot the spices. I like my hummus spicy--cumin, red pepper, black pepper. Yum. I keep my spices in a plastic bag so that when I move it's easier to pack them up. I've moved three times in the past year, in three different states, that's a lot of moves...and a lot of W2 forms. These are the thoughts that occured to me as I removed the spice bag from the second shelf above my head--these are the thoughts that prevented my memory from accessing the spice bag warning memory: "there's a hole in the spice bag and the pepper has come free of the pepper bottle". As I removed the spice bag from it's shelf a shower of pepper and salt rained over me (it seems the salt had also found it's way out of the salt bottle). I managed to get some in the hummus. After adding a dash of cummin and a double shake of cayenne I poked even bigger holes in the bottom of the spice bag , and shook it over the garbarge can, allowing all of the salt and pepper to drain. I replaced the cayenne and cumin, and placed the bag back on the shelf. I was not calm at this point, and rather in a state of self misery--I had no one to blame but myself. Choices I had made in the past (spice bag) , habits I practiced in the present (rushing to make everything at once, forcing the tahini instead of throwing it away) , add a dash of coincidence (bad tahini, bad delivery man), made for a bad ending to a fairly unremarkable day. This is what it means to be an adult. Being accountable for your own decisions, your own actions, and whatever fate has in store. Tonight that was a recipe for self defeat. Tomorow I'll start on the recipe for self conquering...ala mode.
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