I got home late from a meeting this evening. Normally I eat with Poppy and Leftwing Idiot or with my night-time support worker. But because I was back late, everyone had already eaten. Poppy offered to make me some dinner but I was keen to try and do it myself.
After a careful check of the available ingredients and what was feasible for me, I decided to try making myself a fish finger sandwich.
I was desperately hungry by the time the fish fingers were done, and it was all going well up until the point when I had to get them out of the oven. As I picked up the oven tray my arm ticced vigorously, my dinner flew through the air, and as I struggled to hold onto it, I burnt my hand on the tray.
I howled with pain and frustration. Poppy rushed across the room and took over while I recovered.
Fortunately for me the fish fingers hadn’t slid off the tray, and although I was upset I hadn’t managed to complete the task by myself, my annoyance eased along with my hunger as I enjoyed the sandwich.