I just ruined like my 20th batch of rice. In row.
It's sitting on the kitchen counter. A giant ball of slimy goo stewed to gloppy perfection. Just the way I hate it---clumpy, bloated, squishy, wet, pasty---you know the kind.
I've made rice with out error just fine for the past 15 years and now I find it utterly impossible to brew edible rice.
So, goodbye lunch. I wish we'd have gotten to know each other better before I have to go back to sewing.
Possibly I'll use the money from this upcoming boutique to buy a rice cooker. Meanwhile I'll stitch away, stomach growling, wondering how this cooking anomaly has happened and why it has happened to me.
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