I'm off today, but I'm not really off. I'm so backed up on reports that I must spend much of the day writing. At the moment, I'm on a procrastination break at a Starbucks a few doors away from the auto-service shop that is diagnosing the Service Engine dashboard light that lit up yesterday. And I'm tired. Last night we made some devastating chocolate chip cookies as part of our contribution to a Thanksgiving feast. I ate three of them and got wired like a Christmas tree, resulting in a terrible night's sleep. Should have seen that coming.
The recipe was developed a long time ago with my grad school girlfriend. We were always coming up with new procrastination techniques, like the time we stripped all the wallpaper in our shitty apartment while studying non-stop for comps over a two-month stretch. It began as a bit of obsessive-compulsive picking and tearing on her part, and things escalated from there. Then we had to clean the walls with a special goo-wash-away solution, then prime and repaint. We both passed and the apartment looked better.
Anyway, the cookie project extended over a couple of years as we experimented with various recipes, tinkering endlessly to achieve the perfectly-textured, chewy, salty-sweet, powdered-oatmeal-peanut-bit, chocolate-chip & chunk cookie. Most people absolutely love them. They're even more amazing then Donald Trump's cookies (I know! Hard to believe!), but they're a bear to make, and eating more than two is biohazardous.