Today was a rough day. Third day out of three means, the last stretch of 36 hours since Friday.
Which means, I probably wouldn’t have been in a good mood anyways.
I keep getting bugged at work because I never bake/cook anything to bring it in. Usually because I never know about since I’m an HUC and we don’t necessarily get all the memos for potlucks like the nurses do.
So, last night [after work, mind you] I stayed up and made a batch of cupcakes. Ishaq’s favorite. I took the extra to work. Close to twenty to be exact.
One of the nurses, ate one and didn’t like it. Which is fine, not everyone likes everything. No big deal. But she made such a big deal about it that no one else wanted to try any.
She didn’t know I was the one who had made them. And I don’t think she knows I heard.
And I shouldn’t care.
But, some part of me was devastated.
Later tonight, at the in-laws house, Ishaq was trying to make me feel better. He asked his mum about the cupcakes from the wedding. He asked if she had liked them and she made an embarrassed face and turned beet red.
Which makes me mad. Not because she didn’t like them. But because, why didn’t anyone tell me they were bad?!??!
I served these at my wedding, for Christsake. I took these into work.
I wouldn’t have been offended if they were bad. I even did a test run and everyone said they were great.
It’s so embarrassing. Humiliating. Devastatingly so.
I told Ishaq I may never bake again. That’s how poorly I feel.
And if I do, it won’t be from scratch.
I feel that all the joy and love that I used to feel from baking has been sucked out of me.
At least for now.
And to the nurse, the one so kind enough to be a complete and utter bitch as to not care who the baker was, and to be completely insensitive [even if it weren’t me- she had no clue who it was. it could have been anyone standing around], I say: Screw You. Oh, and the big red splotch on your mouth you were worried about all day really does look like Herpes no matter what you say.
[excuse the cattiness. it’s late, i’m bitter, i’m sleep deprived]
On another note: 3 weeks of break is over, and school starts tomorrow. I plan to write more regularly again.