Stumbled out of bed, ran a sweaty hand across my face, stood in front of the fridge door in my underwear and decided it was time to make soup this Sunday morning. The first onion I sliced quickly turned to acid in the air. I was lazy. I hacked haphazardly at a few onions with one hand, occasionally using the other to rub my eyes, but mainly let myself cry. Scooped up the peices, threw them into the pan. Washed my knife. Tears subsided. Added spices, let it sweat. Pumpkin came next. Coconut milk. Carrots. Swirls of steam. A patient 45 minutes. Whirled together with a hand blender, a red stain sprinkle of paprika on top. Bliss.

Head to the mirror 1.5 hours later and I've been a walking Clockwork Orange figure for most of the morning. Oops.