Mr BooHoo is an imaginary character and this is his imaginary diary, so if you are not familliar with him you'd better start from the start. Scroll down to find previous posts.
Chapter ^ (6): sleeping and baking
The alarm clock started making the usual, unfriendly, beeping sounds at half past eight in the morning. Mr BooHoo pressed down the snooze button. The sound would stop for just five minutes, a joke of a time that would be enough for a joke of a slumber. It went off again and Mr BooHoo thought of pushing the button again. He knew he was able to do this for a couple of hours, until he would have slept for approximately eight hours.
After having carefully observed pattern behaviors in canines, he had come to the conclusion that the only animals that liked to get up early in the morning are the ones that have to go to work. Further more, since the human kind had been given the gift of electricity and artificial light, it was nothing more than a silly, nasty, habit to have to get up so early in the morning. It also made him miserable and angry to be forced to wake up after less than eight hours of sleep, especially when the climate was not extremely dry.
As it has been mentioned before, Mr BooHoo is a day-person. Or, to be more accurate, he felt much better in his daily self. This doesn't mean that he didn't enjoy as much sleeping in the morning as well. It felt so good, to let the outside world happen and stay inside his safe, cosy bed.
Thus, on this particular morning he decided to do the small extra gesture that would ensure the alarm-clock's silence and he went back to sleep for another one and a half hour. He opened his eyes again at ten o'clock. It looked like a fairly nice autumn day, probably the first day of autumn, despite the fact that it was already the 20th of September. The sky had a bright white color and it looked gloomy. Mr BooHoo liked this sort of weather. He wished for a cup of coffee. His friend was in the loo already.
Mr BooHoo walked into the kitchen hoping that his coffee had not gone lukewarm yet. Alas, there was none. Just a half-cup of watery lukewarm cocoa. He put some water to boil and started doing the dishes. His friend was still in the loo, a place that Mr BooHoo was becoming desperate to visit, too, for he had drunk almost 750 ml of water before he had gone to bed and now it wanted to come out. For a little while he even flirted with the idea of urinating in the kitchen sink, but thought twice and decided against it.
The morning was going well. He had spent the last four days making a stupid (and somewhat ridiculous subject-matter-wise) painting with oil-colors that looked better than it did the previous night and therefor he declared it finished. As far as a work of art- to speak of-can be declared finished; to be honest it was more a "to hell with it" definition of finished than completed. He would not occupy himself with it any more, at least for now. He took his medium cup of steaming coffee and sat on the couch to doodle around the internet. After spending some unnervingly futile time on social networks he decided to do something more worthwhile. He had some cooked beetroot from the previous day in the fridge. He would make some cake!
At this point it should be mentioned that Mr BooHoo was a fairly good cook, but a not so proud pastry-chef. Unfortunately this was about to be confirmed. A friend of his that was an excellent cake-maker had explained to him once that the issue was the incompatibility between the intention to make something healthy and sweets that tasted good. In other words, that he should not expect to make a nice cake without thin all-purpose flour, sugar and lots of butter. He seemed a bit narrow-minded though and tried a healthy recipe with whole-grain flour and honey. He also did a mistake and put only one cup of honey instead of one and a half as indicated in the recipe.
All the ingredients were mixed, the baking trays were put in the preheated oven and he took the dog for a walk. It was remarkably hot outside for the gloominess of the day. This was a bad thing, for Mr BooHoo was fond of chilly weather. When he returned to his house he smelled burnt cake. His friend had forgot to check on it. It was not so badly burned though. The cooking was almost all right but the recipe sucked so badly! It was not sweet at all. It had a bread-like taste, almost salty. His friend told him it had too much soda or/and baking powder. Further more, it had a rather ordinary orangy colour while he had expected it to be pink. What a turn-off.
The bad results of his baking brought to his mind more thoughts about his unsuccessful living. He could not get a proper job or put his life in a straight line, totally unable to take decisions and feeling like the biggest talented looser in the world. His birthday was approaching. ""ollocks. He would wait for a little longer, so as to get the results for jobs he had applied for and then he would apply for some more. Wednesday, the day to come, would be a big day. He had lots of things to do. So, he might just as well take Tuesday easily. Anyway, there was still a meal to be prepared and it would go much better. Mushrooms was something he could control. And the day was still gloomy. It made him sleepy but he liked it non-the less. Perhaps things would work out and someday, he might even bake a cake that would make his friends proud!
Chapter ^ (6): sleeping and baking
The alarm clock started making the usual, unfriendly, beeping sounds at half past eight in the morning. Mr BooHoo pressed down the snooze button. The sound would stop for just five minutes, a joke of a time that would be enough for a joke of a slumber. It went off again and Mr BooHoo thought of pushing the button again. He knew he was able to do this for a couple of hours, until he would have slept for approximately eight hours.
After having carefully observed pattern behaviors in canines, he had come to the conclusion that the only animals that liked to get up early in the morning are the ones that have to go to work. Further more, since the human kind had been given the gift of electricity and artificial light, it was nothing more than a silly, nasty, habit to have to get up so early in the morning. It also made him miserable and angry to be forced to wake up after less than eight hours of sleep, especially when the climate was not extremely dry.
As it has been mentioned before, Mr BooHoo is a day-person. Or, to be more accurate, he felt much better in his daily self. This doesn't mean that he didn't enjoy as much sleeping in the morning as well. It felt so good, to let the outside world happen and stay inside his safe, cosy bed.
Thus, on this particular morning he decided to do the small extra gesture that would ensure the alarm-clock's silence and he went back to sleep for another one and a half hour. He opened his eyes again at ten o'clock. It looked like a fairly nice autumn day, probably the first day of autumn, despite the fact that it was already the 20th of September. The sky had a bright white color and it looked gloomy. Mr BooHoo liked this sort of weather. He wished for a cup of coffee. His friend was in the loo already.
Mr BooHoo walked into the kitchen hoping that his coffee had not gone lukewarm yet. Alas, there was none. Just a half-cup of watery lukewarm cocoa. He put some water to boil and started doing the dishes. His friend was still in the loo, a place that Mr BooHoo was becoming desperate to visit, too, for he had drunk almost 750 ml of water before he had gone to bed and now it wanted to come out. For a little while he even flirted with the idea of urinating in the kitchen sink, but thought twice and decided against it.
The morning was going well. He had spent the last four days making a stupid (and somewhat ridiculous subject-matter-wise) painting with oil-colors that looked better than it did the previous night and therefor he declared it finished. As far as a work of art- to speak of-can be declared finished; to be honest it was more a "to hell with it" definition of finished than completed. He would not occupy himself with it any more, at least for now. He took his medium cup of steaming coffee and sat on the couch to doodle around the internet. After spending some unnervingly futile time on social networks he decided to do something more worthwhile. He had some cooked beetroot from the previous day in the fridge. He would make some cake!
At this point it should be mentioned that Mr BooHoo was a fairly good cook, but a not so proud pastry-chef. Unfortunately this was about to be confirmed. A friend of his that was an excellent cake-maker had explained to him once that the issue was the incompatibility between the intention to make something healthy and sweets that tasted good. In other words, that he should not expect to make a nice cake without thin all-purpose flour, sugar and lots of butter. He seemed a bit narrow-minded though and tried a healthy recipe with whole-grain flour and honey. He also did a mistake and put only one cup of honey instead of one and a half as indicated in the recipe.
All the ingredients were mixed, the baking trays were put in the preheated oven and he took the dog for a walk. It was remarkably hot outside for the gloominess of the day. This was a bad thing, for Mr BooHoo was fond of chilly weather. When he returned to his house he smelled burnt cake. His friend had forgot to check on it. It was not so badly burned though. The cooking was almost all right but the recipe sucked so badly! It was not sweet at all. It had a bread-like taste, almost salty. His friend told him it had too much soda or/and baking powder. Further more, it had a rather ordinary orangy colour while he had expected it to be pink. What a turn-off.
The bad results of his baking brought to his mind more thoughts about his unsuccessful living. He could not get a proper job or put his life in a straight line, totally unable to take decisions and feeling like the biggest talented looser in the world. His birthday was approaching. ""ollocks. He would wait for a little longer, so as to get the results for jobs he had applied for and then he would apply for some more. Wednesday, the day to come, would be a big day. He had lots of things to do. So, he might just as well take Tuesday easily. Anyway, there was still a meal to be prepared and it would go much better. Mushrooms was something he could control. And the day was still gloomy. It made him sleepy but he liked it non-the less. Perhaps things would work out and someday, he might even bake a cake that would make his friends proud!
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