Blood gushing always
everywhere stabbing gut pain
agony no fun
Twelve. Twelve is the number of cook books I have. They take up a whole shelf that could be used for actual food. They sit and gather dust. And cobwebs. And dried up ladybug corpses. It is clear I am not quite the person past me thought I would be.
a ‘before’ picture
I can find my way around the kitchen. I’m not a clueless gal who can only make toast. But when I have spare time there are just other things i’d rather be doing. Like, a lot of other things. Anything else really. Plus my partner is a phenomenal cook so why interfere with their chance to shine. Right?
Problems with the cook books
- Too many ingredients in every recipe – Anything with more than 8 ingredients in it and I am out. I don’t want a bunch of mustard seeds taking up space just because I made one recipe that called for 1/2 teaspoon.
- They are desserts – I’m cooking in an effort to stay healthy here!
- It was from a cleanse – I can proudly say i’ve done the wild rose cleanse. I took the supplements without hurling and I don’t need to ever do it again.
- It was that shitty raw food book from my last blog post – No, i’m not axing open coconuts in my kitchen without proper supervision
- It’s 90s vegetarian – I was a vegetarian once. All the cookbooks from that era are basically cheese and tofu pastas.
All the decluttering gurus say if someone else can find more value in these than it may be time to part with them so this is a no-brainer. I kept two books and copies of any recipe i’ve ever actually made. Success!