Today was a long day.
It was the type of long day that never seems to end. By the time 11AM rolled around, it felt like 5 o’clock. I was ready to throw my purse over the shoulder, scoop up my cup of coffee, and sprint out the door without making eye contact with a single person on my way out. I may or may not have done exactly that, but, sadly, my lunch break ended all too soon. Shocker – The one hour I was looking most forward to ended up flying by.
Not only was today long and tedious, with meetings about meetings left and right, it was the day I had been dreading for 48+ hours. It was doomsday. Today was the day that I had to do the one thing that causes packrats around the world to shiver, break into a cold sweat, and nervously change the topic of conversation while looking for the quickest emergency exit: Today was moving day. Yes… Today I had to move/switch desks. (Okay, so what? I’m a little dramatic. But, being an anxious person anyways, this is actually a fairly big deal to me.) It ended up being easier to move after the workday was, technically, over. That way I wouldn’t have to answer as many questions as normal, while carrying an amount of stuff that would, seemingly, fill a small apartment adequately. I’m actually planning a few crafty moments to make my new seat suck a little less. There will likely be a post about the success and/or failure of said moments later. (Side note: It was, in no way, shape, or form, my idea to move desks. But, I don’t ask questions anymore. It’s easier to just smile and nod, and carry on about my day. I may have, however, taken my phone, computer tower, computer camera, and my chair with me, just to make the experience a little more difficult for the person moving into my old desk, who is hypothetically the reason I had to move in the first place. Is this spiteful? Yes. But, did it come with a small degree of satisfaction? Absolutely. I’m petty, folks. Tom Petty.)
It was after 6:30 by the time I got home. I know I complain here and there, but it really wasn’t that bad. Boyfriend was hanging out on the couch with our weenie dog when I walked into the apartment, and greeted me with a smile. Weenie, however, greeted me with her customary howl-bark and chased me around the room until I sat down to play.
Boyfriend made us some quick “poor guy fajitas” for dinner. (Yes, that is a direct quote.) Per the usual, I was on clean-up duty, and I had just about finished when he looked up, all cute and junk, and requested that I make him some more cinnamon rolls. I stared at him, a little blankly for a while, and said, “Sure, babes.” If you read my previous post, then you know that I wasn’t too pleased with my first ever round of scratch cinnamon rolls. So, I took this as an opportunity to be a little more careful.
I measured everything out exactly; I’ve learned that this is a big deal with baking. I followed the recipe perfectly. The dough was easier to work with this time; I kneaded it better, rolled it out thinner, and rolled the dough up tighter than my last attempt. By the time I cut the roll into individual pieces, I could tell this was a much more successful attempt. I let the rolls rise for almost exactly an hour and tossed them into the oven. Boyfriend suggested that I leave them in a little less than last time, and that turned out to be great advice.
Guys. They. Turned. Out. Perfectly. I may be out on a limb here, but they were the best cinnamon rolls that I’ve ever eaten. Sure, it may have taken a couple of hours to make them (and clean the kitchen), but it was so, so, totally worth it. I would refer you to boyfriend to back up my opinion, but he fell asleep about ten minutes after I put them in the oven. (Don’t worry… I ate one. Quality assurance is important to me.) Oh, well. I’m pretty dang pleased with myself. Ya’ll can just call me ‘Betty’ from now on.
Now I’m sittin’ in bed with weenie and boyfriend, having a nice, cold beer before I go to bed. This day may not have turned out too badly after all.
Here’s the link to the recipe I used: Cinnamon Rolls
XOXO ya’ll.
*Edit – This picture is actually mine this time. It was taken after cutting the rolls into pieces. (Pre-rising, and pre-baking.) Don’t mind my thumb in the picture.
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