Revenge of the Mountain Dew

The caffeine has worn off and now I'm tired and getting a bit sore. I cooked enough food to feed several small countries and I raked up all of the leaves in the yard. Too many leaves. Then I came back in to finish cooking. Made my stuffed shells and chili and some cornbread and then some brownies. Vast amounts of each. I don't know why I do that. It's like I'm cooking enough just in case a bus-load of people decide to drop by. I've always done that.

I don't mind the cooking. I love to cook. I'll cook all day and night. Love it. But I hate cleaning. I did a lot of cleaning. Hate the cleaning. Much hate. I need to hire someone who will just follow behind me cleaning up my mess. I'd be a very happy person if I had that. I'd cook for them to show them how much I appreciated the cleaning. Of course, they'd be cleaning up after me while I cooked for them, but I'm sure it balances out somehow. I'm a good cook.

The problem is when I start craving things. And then I have to make all of these things I crave because I saw them at the store, in a commercial, on a show, whatever. That's why I made all of that food today. Something made me crave each and every item on that list. Probably something on the food network since it's almost always on when I'm not watching Lost or Arrested Development or Dead Like Me-- the sneaky little buggers from Dead Like Me decided to air reruns without my knowing.

In fact, I was watching something on the food network that made me crave cheesecake. I'm thinking about making an eggnog cheesecake for New Year's when we have our little get-together. I need to hunt down a recipe. I won't go all out, like they did on the show, and make chocolate-covered cheesecake pops. Even if they did look like heaven on a stick. It's just too much work.

I do have my limits, you know.