Bake Fail

I had a bake sale today. It was probably the most unsuccessful thing I’ve completed in my life. 

To make a long story short, I accidentally broke Steve's fishing rod in the apartment door when Riley, Kacy, Heather, Steve and I got back into Melbourne from the road trip, late on a Saturday night, exhausted and covered in mysterious road trip filth.

In transferring our stuff from the corridor and into the apartment, I had backed myself up against it to keep it open while I tossed things inside. Steve’s fishing rod was leaning up against the door. What happened next was one of those moments you cringe as everything starts sliding in slow motion. The fishing rod slipped into the crevice of the door, and as I leaned forward to get a hold of something that was just beyond my reach, the door closed enough to snap the pole into shards. Shit.

I hid it in the closet. 

The secret ate away at me the whole night. It was niggling into me, relentless. It’s not that I thought Steve was going to be mad about the accident – I wasn’t afraid to tell him because I thought he was going to lose it. I just know the kind of guy he is. He loves that fishing rod, and I knew he would feel guilty buying another one on our budget. I needed to fix this.

The next day I confessed my sins to the girls, sans Steve. As I told them, a small idea started to take shape in my mind. “Maybe I’ll have a bake sale or something,” I said to them, grasping to find a solution. Once I thought it, it had to happen. I started putting plans into motion. Recruiting help, looking up recipes, making signs. Anyone who knows me, can vouch that I am stubborn and I put my best into the things I believe in.  This was no exception.

The first thing that went wrong, was that my friend who was going to come share the humiliation with me had to cancel. Family issues came up, and that is where she needed to be.  No worries, I could still do this on my own.

On Friday, I carted a keyboard stand and a cardboard box home from school to be a makeshift table, and hid it under the bed.  Then, I walked to the store and bought $25 worth of ingredients, lugged it all home, and started the bake-off.

In a manic state, I baked cupcakes, cookies, and brownies. Packed them up and chucked them under the bed as well.  I cleaned and put away all the dishes, and threw out the suspicious garbage. I even aired out the apartment so it didn’t smell delicious when Steve got home from work that evening.

All day Saturday I was anxious. Bumming around, knowing we were lounging on top of a small mountain of baked goods and waiting for Steve to head off to work again. The minutes ticked away, and as soon as he was out the door, I was off like a shot.

I grabbed my things and set out with my wares. At the beginning, my tummy was churning with butterflies! The longer I stood there, the more normal it became to be a twenty-something loner selling baked goods on a shoddy table.

Then it started to rain.  Yep, the Melbourne weekend forecast had shown rain developing in the evening – and here I was at 4:30pm selling cookies in a downpour. Nice.

Well, at least I was under cover. I remained optimistic and waited it out, hoping that some millionaire with a weakness for home baked goods would think my signs were funny and give me a massive donation for making their day. The optimism slowly faded into downright embarrassment and after an hour, I packed up again. This time for good.

As I was taking down shop, a friendly neighbor whom Steve and I chat with on short elevator rides or around the BBQ, poked his head out and asked me what I was up to. Sheepishly I explained and tried to laugh off my bruised ego. James, bless his heart, took pity on me and purchased 2 cookies, a brownie AND a cupcake - and overpaid for them, might I add.  $10.50 for the lot. He even helped me carry my ridiculous table and things into the elevator.

I wobbled back in through our door (curse that door!), and did the math in my head as I put things back into place.  After everything, I had come out of this whole ordeal in the red by $14.50.

So now I sit in my apartment eating chocolate chip cookies and writing this blog. I’d like to say ‘it’s the thought that counts,’ but really, that doesn’t bring us any closer to a fishing rod, does it? My bake sale was a bake fail.

 I suppose that Steve and I can do some inventive budgeting in order to subsidize another one – a conclusion I should have come to in the first place before getting the cockamamie idea of throwing a bake sale. The only thing I can say in my defense is that sometimes people do crazy things when they’re in love.  Steve may not have a fishing rod tomorrow, but he will have a whole bunch of delicious treats and someone who really loves him!!