It amazes me what one can make by combining a pair of eggs with sugar and flower, baking soda and salt, chocolate chips or raisins. Combine with Three hundred and fifty degree heat for fifteen minutes, just like that, a batch of cookies, or, in different proportions, brownies, chocolate cake.
More amazing still the messes you notice when sitting in a silent room, waiting for the cookies to bake -- the cobweb in the top corner above the refrigerator, the onion leaf that fell behind the trash can, a coupon clipped and long forgotten, a hidden drink coaster thought lost, a fresh splash of milk on the countertop from the last batch.
From the last batch I discovered that I only burned myself twice is both a boast and an admission. The dishtowel didn't quite cover the handle of the baking stone, and so palm met metal, and, flinching back, the inner wall of the oven, a little sting, a little swear, a little cold water and all is well. After all, I could have burned the house down.
Half past ten now, and back on the burgandy couch watching the Karate Kid (Elizabeth Shue, the people you notice some times), belly full of cookies and milk, and life is good.