I decided today was the day I was going to make some homemade potato soup and some fresh bread to go with it. Oh my gosh it’s such a great meal. Well to get started I have to get the bread going because it’s a three hour thing getting the bread made, and that’s cheating with a bread machine. But I don’t mind cheating, in fact if our old bread machine goes south I’ll immediately be looking to replace it. Anywho…

I warm the milk and put it in the bread machine pan, then add the 2.5 cups of bread flour, then toss in .75 cup of old fashioned oatmeal. Time for the brown sugar. 2 tablespoons of brown sugar, I go to the container on the counter where I have stored the brown sugar. I know exactly where it’s at. Where it’s been  for the last 3000 freaking years, and it isn’t there. It’s no longer where it has been for the last 3000 years and I’m looking at the clock, it’s all about timing putting a supper together and still have time to grab a quick shower before I have to head out and pick up the wife.

I look in the cabinets low and high. I look in places no one even ought to look for brown sugar. I check the cabinets again, then a couple more times just to make double damn sure. The brown sugar is nowhere to be found.

I recall the wife recently rearranging things in the kitchen. I am certain she has put the brown sugar in some ridiculous place I haven’t thought to look. I’ve been looking now for what seems like 45 mintues and my irritation is growing and the clock just keeps ticking. So I text the wife “Pardon me but where is the GD Brown sugar?!” She replies “what?” I’m like how could I possibly phrase it any clearer? I respond “Brown freaking sugar, where the heck is it?”

So she calls me. “What’s the deal?” I say I am looking for the brown sugar, where the hell is the brown sugar? My voice no doubt becoming notably irritated. In fact she says to me “don’t be yelling at me!” I said honey, I’m not yelling at you ok? I’m just yelling in general at this point. Then she says “have you looked in the container on the counter? “Yes! Yes I have looked there! At least three times! And everywhere else! Where did you put the brown sugar?”

She hesitates for a moment, “Oh didn’t our son use the brown sugar the other day?” I do recall he made some brownies for his girlfriend… The wife says “look for the recipe and see if his recipe called for brown sugar.” I could really care less at this point if the ding dang recipe calls for brown sugar ok? But regardless I spend more precious time looking for the ding dang recipe just because if I don’t I’ll have to keep answering the question “did you find the recipe?”

Well one of the boys has sensed my extreme irritation, no doubt clued by the stream of cussing bouncing off the walls. He finds the recipe! Well what do you know the recipe called for 1/2 cup of… brown sugar! Aha!

My boy had quite likely used the last bit of brown sugar making his girlfriend some brownies, and he neglected to inform anyone that an important household ingredient needs to be replaced.

Reality sets in. I am not going to be able to go to town and get the damn brown sugar and be back in time to get this meal off the ground. Fuck it! Just fuck it, no bread, no soup, will just have to figure something else out. I apologize to the wife and we part our phone conservation on good terms.

Well now I have this bread machine pan half full of ingredients I cannot put back in their containers. Yep that ship has sailed. So I figure I’ll take it out back and toss it all in the woods on the backside of the pond. So that’s what I did. I came back inside to clean the bread machine pan and I realized the little paddle that goes down in the bottom of the pan went over the backside of the pond when I tossed it out!

Jeebus damn frickety Christ! It was this moment I realized if I had the nuclear codes I’d probably just hit every damn red button on my desk. Thereby ending the world as we know it.

So, ya’ll make sure you have brown sugar ok? And make sure the orange idiot has brown sugar, or Big Macs, or triple cheesburgers with a side of lies too. The world is too important!

P.S. I texted my brownie making son with a shortened version of this story then asked him, “Think you can grab some damn brown sugar on the way home from work?”

He came in with 3 bags 😉