Well this seems an appropriate place to start.
That’s me in the kitchen, last week.
It was 9 o’clock in the evening, I had been there since 4am. Everyone else had left for the day. With a few minutes to spare, as I awaited my chariot (my sweet beau was biking over to pick me up and walk me home), I decided to make the kitchen spotless, cleaning even the mop bucket. (Sidenote - yep, that’s the glorious life as a founder of a craft food biz, scrubbing filthy mop buckets.) As I saw Reece arrive outside, I opened the fridge to check on one last thing, and BLAMMO - the hinges failed, and the top shelf of the fridge came crashing down. Along with everything stored atop it. All over me.
I was soaked in the ice cream custard base that we had just spent hours crafting. It was an orange-julius inspired flavor, called Orange County Fair, that was setting in the fridge over night to be churned into pints in the morning. After a 17 hour day, and with a bloodied hand, and orange julius soaked vans (RIP old friends), what could I do but start to cry.
So okay that happened for about a minute. Until, what could I do next, but start to clean it up.
1.5 hours later, the kitchen was as spotless as I had earlier decided to make it. Moreso, even.
I guess what I learned here was “don’t cry over spilled milk..made” as, of course, was the first joke of the night. And, ya know, messes get made. And the longer you cry over it and wallow over the current state of affairs (be it in your kitchen, or, hey, in your life!), the more the custard spreads on the floor. It’ll start to soak through the cracks and creep under the fridge, or spread to places you didn’t even know it could go - and then it’s just harder to clean up. And sometimes you find that your kitchen is even cleaner after a mess has been made than it would have been otherwise.