midnight chocolate cookies



1/2 c. white sugar

1/2 c. brown sugar

1 c. butter room temp

2 eggs

10 oz semisweet baking chocolate

1 and 1/4 tsp vanilla

1 and 2/3 c. flour plus 2 tblsp

1//3 c. unsweetened cocoa powder (not dutch)

1 and 1/4 tsp soda

1/2 tsp salt

Start by watching Hannah and Her Sisters. Get interrupted by husband 11 times. Distract him so you can finish the movie by sending him to the store for chocolate chips for his favorite cookies. Enjoy the final scenes in blissful ambient silence.

Cream butter and….oops, there is only about 2 tablespoons in the sugar canister. Go back and forth with husband over who will go back to the store. You both go, he waits in the car, you wander the aisles in your PJs humming a song from Reality Bites and hugging the pound of sugar to your chest in the hopes that all the divorced men doing their weekly grocery don't notice you aren't wearing a bra. Purchase sugar, and more butter. Get cash back, just in case. 

Cream butter and sugar (add molasses to the white sugar you bought, to make brown sugar, you need to use that up anyways…mmm the molasses smells good, wish you were making molasses cookies). Attempt to beat vigorously for 5 minutes by hand with a wooden spoon because you haven't a mixer, while husband cheers you on and snaps photos. Add each egg separately and beat more. Beat, beat, beat. Massage right shoulder. Rummage for 10oz semisweet baking chocolate. Find 3oz unsweetened baking chocolate. Improvise. Add more sugar, some olive oil, extra unsweetened cocoa powder. Assure inquiring husband you are following the recipe. Add some vanilla.

Get husband another beer. Add dry ingredients, thanking god you had several pounds of flour and a bottomless box of baking soda. Toss in a too-big pinch of salt, most of the chocolate chips from the giant sized bag husband bought. Wonder if those bags look smaller to men because they have bigger hands.

Bake 7 pans of cookies one at a time at 350 for 14 minutes wishing you had another cookie sheet. Get exhausted. Clobber husband when he is too drunk to eat surprisigly yummy cookies. Go to bed promising yourself not to partake in this particular form of procrastinating from prepping for your presentation on Quintilian's Tropes and Figures tomorrow.  



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