Hell's Kitchen hath no Fury

I spent my Saturday hoping to channel my inner Martha or Rachael.  I even strutted around the kitchen in my Betty Boop apron with wooden spoon in hand.  I pulled out the mixer, the cutting boards, every pan and bowl, spoon, and shortening can.  Problem is: Martha and Rachael have someone to clean up after them; I don't.  I also remember why I don't make homemade rolls or bread of any kind sans a bread machine!  Why I decided to make "feather" dinner rolls is beyond me.  I'm not eating bread!!!!!!  (Correction: I ate 2 of them and they are NOT feather light but thick yummy delicious pockets of yum. yum yum yum!)  But there I was plastered up to my elbows with a sticky flour/ mash potato/ yeast concoction and in desperate need of more flour.  I felt I was channeling Robert Irvine in Dinner Impossible!  I hollered for Hubby to help.  He walked in and grabbed the sugar container.  I yelled "that's the sugar; the flour is over here by me."  When he set the sugar container down, he knocked the freshly ground coffee off the counter and into the dog bowl.  He then picked up the sugar again!  What?  Leave the coffee grounds alone for a minute and get me some flour....not the sugar...the flour over by me!!!!  Next he tripped over the extension cord which was connected to the expensive mixer and came over with the sugar!  Please don't let me be in reality show Hell's Kitchen.  Maybe we are in a sitcom?  By then I was channeling my Ricky Ricardo to his Lucy, "ay ay ay" but I had the good sense not to slap my forehead.  I sure don't need a repeat of getting sticky bread dough out of my hair!

The final product was 12 dinner roll looking things and 4 biscuit looking things.  I'm really not sure about the physics of all of it or the chemistry or biology, but when my 6 rolled dough was scrunched together like sardines in the pan, they rose and bloomed into yummy looking dinner rolls.  The 4 or 5 rolled dough that were spaced out onto a pie pan stayed rolly polly and were as hard as bricks.  Thus my conclusion, we all need to stick together in heated situations!

Now I want you to channel your inner Bates Motel music and experience my kitchen! brrrrp   brrrrp   brrrrp No that isn't me burping; I'm making the trill sound from Psycho!  Please!!!!

I'm going to bed.  Maybe I can channel my twitching nose like Samantha and it will all go away.  Darrin has already hit the sack!