Mad at the Chicken

Have you ever had one of those days where you were just off? You know, nothing is going right, and everything you touch turns into the worse version of what it was before? I had one of those days today, and I just wanted an escape. Phone a friend, mobile shout out, easy button? Yes, I will take two of each. It wasn't anything particular making me feel all scrambled up (as Taryn says). Just...everything. Kids whining and fighting too much over silly things, puppy peeing in the house right AFTER she came in from going outside, full sink AND full dishwasher, getting to the phone right after the caller hangs up on what they think will be an answering machine...bleck. Off day.

I can't always put my finger on the worst part when I have these less then stellar days. Usually one thing after the next falls short of "good enough", and I keep plugging along until I can't take it and get snappy with the closest living being. Today was a bit different. Today I know exactly when I hit rock bottom. It was the moment when I got mad at the chicken. Literally. I could feel myself getting angry...at Jayme's dinner. I don't care much for chicken, but I make it for me betrothed none the less. He is always happy to be fed, but tonight he was having to eat AFTER the kids went to bed...so it was pretty late for dinner and he was borderline starving. I wanted to make him something different than the usual chicken on the grill, and I wanted it to be gooooooood! I followed the "recipe" on the bisquick box for chicken tenders, but first I coated them in Texas Pete hot sauce to spice things up. I thought I would get lovely, crisp, chicken pieces with a hint of spiciness.

What came out of the oven thirty minutes later (15 minutes past the box's indicated cooking time) was a mess. The crispiness never...crispified...and what coating was on it just stayed stuck to the perfectly cooking-sprayed and correctly placed aluminum foil. I found myself looking at a bare naked chicken breast, and it did not look good.

That's when I felt myself get angry at the chicken. I did EVERYTHING right this time. I foiled, sprayed, coated, preheated, and timed this mess. Seriously? Ridiculous. I could have done better if I had slapped a little of my own spice concoction together and tossed those babies on the grill. I heard myself think, "Stupid chicken! I did all the work, you just had to turn out right. Don't think for a second that you held up your end of this deal".

I cut up the chicken hoping to try and throw some of the coating in with it and to hide the absolutely ugliness of the whole piece of meat sitting on the plate. You can rest assured I cut that chicken up with some extra muscle behind each slice. I had a little bit of a point that I still needed to make to that foul bird. And then, I took a deep breath and gave to Jayme with a quiet disclaimer that it did not turn out as I intended.

Then, unexpectedly, I felt better. I had gotten mad at the chicken and what did I take that anger out on? Said chicken. That was pretty enlightened of me. Usually when I get angry at situations I just snap at my kids or my dogs, or Jayme. This time, I got angry at the thing I was upset with. Granted, it was an inanimate object, and as such had done nothing wrong. But my sanity is not the point here. The point is, I think I did good. In this particular situation, getting mad at the chicken goes in my "win" column. I feel so proud. ;)