That doesn't live here any more

About a million years ago a year and a half ago, I left my residential job of a million years 8 years. Residential means that I worked in a house that was not mine, taking care of kids that were not mine. Often when people say "residential" it refers to a group home or a foster home. I worked at several foster homes over the 8 years but I worked at one home the most and often worked several days at a time. During these "shifts" I would live at the home with the soul sucking female aliens teen girls. Often the girls knew, when I was home I was in the kitchen baking and cooking yummy things to keep them home and off the street nourish their spirits. 

After working at the house for a while I started to forget which dishes, cooking utensils, food, and pans were at my house or the foster home. Often I would be searching my cabinets for food that I had seen at the other house, or pans that I used at home I would try and find only to realize that they were at my house and not the foster home. Once I left that job this memory problem trait slowly waned and I no longer searched for items that were not in my home. That is until tonight. 

You see I wanted to make apple crisp. It is something that makes the house smell amazing, tastes great, doesn't take a lot of time and I don't need a recipe for. It's also something I made frequently for the girls on cold night and early mornings. 

So I peeled the apples and started to cut them off the core and slice them up. All I kept wishing was that I had that little dodad that cored and sliced the apples at the same time, just like at the foster home. But knowing that I don't own one, I carried on chopping and slicing. Once the apples were in the baking dish it was time for sex in dessert form the crumble topping. In went the butter, sugar, flour, oats and  cinnamon. Now, I am not a big fan of using my fingers to mix the sugary, buttery heavenly  crumble because it feels weird  the butter gets to warm. So I started to look for my pastry blender. In order to find it I had to search through this....

 

No problem right? RIGHT! I mean how difficult would it be to find a pastry blender that has a worn black wood handle and crooked wires? Can't be that difficult. So I began the "dig". 4 spatulas, 8 (!) whisks, 3 pizza cutters,  3 one cup measuring cups, 6 wooden spoons and 4 unidentified kitchen objects later and I still couldn't find the blender. I continued to dig and dig, placing objects neatly on the counter so I could organize them when I put them away on the floor allowing the cat to play with them, promising to wash them when I was done, in a huge heap. As I got down to the last few things I suddenly remembered. My pastry blender was metal and new and sitting under the cat and the black one was at the foster home.

So I quickly organized everything in the drawer rifled through the pile finding my blender and mixing up the million calorie goodness  crumble, placing it on the apples and thew it in the over (I mean, how much longer should I be forced to wait!). When I did start to shovel put everything back, just as I was nearing the end of the pile I found this....  

So I walked over to the counter by the microwave, opened the bottle of Burbon and took a chug poured some in the apples because after all that I think I deserved it.

Oh well, maybe the bourbon soon will remember what house I REALLY live in.