I get home…and there are many things to do. Things stress me out….things won’t work..mess here, mess there….limited time. I want to eat tons of chocolate or a whole packet of rubbish biscuits…..I can’t keep my mind on one task for long enough to complete it…I feel overwhelmed….and worse  I’m starting to snap at the kids for no good reason.

Suddenly an urge overtakes me….. a need…a desire…to make something. To create something that will take the edge out of the atmosphere. An idea flies into my mind….I dart over to the desktop where I quickly google for recipes….I scroll through a few…find one that is doable to do instantly, and before I know it, the kitchen scales are out…the oven dial turned to 180, and the fridge and cupboard doors start to swing open and slam shut.  Butter is sliced and measured and either melting over the stovetop or being creamed in the kitchen aid.  I know inside I should have cleaned the kitchen first and feel annoyed at myself so I flip on the tap and wait for the hot water before plugging the sink and quirting in the soap….bubbles start to rise as I throw in dirty dishes and utensils. I wash them and leave them to dry and go to measure more ingredients. Through a cloud of flour and smattering of oats or sugar, I also periodically wipe my hands, and sort of obsessively check my blackberry for messages…..Before I know it the recipe is slapped together and I am throwing it in the oven. There is a satisfied sigh that escapes me at this stage…like some kind of release. But now I am now surrounded in a colossal mess, the kind that only happens when you’ve suddenly decided to bake for no real reason.

I again start to throw things into the soapy water, and wash, dry, wipe surfaces….and as I wipe the kitchen aid clean and  put it away and the counters start to clear…. there is another satisfied sigh that escapes, almost a feeling of exhilaration. Suddenly I’m able to move on, think about dinner, think about the laundry, think about the floors that need sweeping…my head is cleared. By the time whatever I’ve made comes out of the oven, it’s slightly anti-climactic…but I feel better somehow…although if in the furry of needing to bake something I’ve actually neglected to make myself some lunch, I’m usually ravenous and end up on some sort of sugar high/crash after scarfing three or four of whatever I’ve made in one go.

I think I must be crazy.