Sometimes baffled and amused by this, sometimes it makes me ugly cry.
Less than ten years ago I was working six days a week at St. Paul’s Hospital; Five of those days were spent baking about 500 muffins a day(from scratch), loaves(like lemon and banana) and every other week you’d throw on cookies and crisps and such. That sixth day I was working culinary, cooking the lunch and dinner for the patients.
I struggle to make cookies from pre-fab rolls. Bye mostly assembled gingerbread houses for my son to decorate. I used to make wedding cakes. I don’t think I could pipe a straight line anymore to save my life.
Fuck you, Arthritis
My hands don’t look much different on the outside, they are sneaky lying bastards.