I thought it would be a great idea to bake bite-sized brownie bites for a ladies night on Wednesday. When that ended in broken Pyrex all over the kitchen floor, did I cry? Nope, I didn't. That's for the Old Jessie. Did I swear? Nope, that's for other people. I just said a bunch of loud nonsense non-swear words, locked Billy in the bedroom, and swept up the mess.
This is why my wonderful husband cooks, and I don't. I wonder if he'll bake me a new dessert to take to Ladies Night?