Yesterday I found my inability to do dishes and bake bread was all about being tired. I accidentally slept for an hour, officially reading, then woke with enough oomph to bake bread, make a nice little supper and, most amazingly, do the dishes.
I'm hopeless at knowing when I'm tired. It comes from long periods of illness through childhood to young adulthood, when I forced myself to operate no matter what. If I'd waited to feel better I'd never have had the interesting life I've had.
The result is that when I eventually, by my thirties, achieved more or less good health, I was terrible at knowing how much was enough. When in doubt, do more, was the idea.
Including driving an hour to conduct important work meetings in the throes of several gall bladder attacks. When my doctor, seeing me for an unrelated issue, found out and forcibly referred me to a surgeon, both of them said, you did what? You could have been dead! Not amused when I pointed out that I wasn't. I didn't admit my meeting notes were soaked in sweat, but never mind.
Anyway, a mixture of grit and stupidity is threaded through my self care history.
It's the fear that chronically ill people often have, that if I don't get up now, I may never get up again. And long after you're well, the fear is still there.
Anyway, bread happened
Out, cooling on rack.
The Teflon baking dish is an idea I got from Jacques Pepin. Mix the dough in it, bake in the same container. Cool, pop it out. Little cleanup.
And a very easy favorite supper, sliced tomato, chunks of cheese, egg broken over, salt, pepper, bake at 375f till the egg is cooked, about 20 minutes.Nice on toast.
But the bread wasn't baked yet, so the last of the Bad Food potato chips made an appearance.
