“Yeast. They are live organisms. They must have died.” Das Squirrel.
Two dozens of frozen golf-ball sized dinner roll dough FAILED to arise during the “speedy method” of 1.5 hours over the 3-5 hours this morning. The smell of warm air, the ghostly odor of Dead Bread still lingers indoors/upstairs.
Again, it’s my fault. I’m sensing that I cause not only lots of trouble but DEATH! With my bare hands and mostly my thoughts of not only little bits of frustrations but larger chunks of evil/whatever.
I kept using the sympathic word “poor” to describe the failed pieces of unrisen dough, the dead/dying polar bear that got injured while trying to hunt thick-skinned walrus on a televised nature show and other inanimate objects.
I’m finished being a fake. There’s still a bullet waiting for nutter if she dares to return to America from the Philippines/next door to us. So much weirdness on this hellish planet.
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