I decided to go all out and make lasagna last Friday to cap off the week. CARBO LOAD. I'm still not too good at this whole meal planning thing ("I want lasagna! Right now!!") and didn't think ahead as to what side dishes we might want with our lasagna. Ten minutes into making the sauce, I decided I'd use the hour-plus of simmer time to leave the concoction on the stove (simmering safely on low heat) and race to the nearest bakery to pick up a loaf of fresh bread and maybe a bottle of wine.
A quick Google search revealed a bakery a few blocks down the street - closing in 10 minutes. Before I left, I made absolutely sure I had my keys and that there was no possible way I could lock myself out of the apartment (which has happened before - I was lucky that time and saved the pot of rice). I flew down Eastlake even though I knew 10 minutes was plenty of time to get inside and pick my loaf. I turned into literally the teeniest parking garage I've ever encountered and eyed one of the available spots. It looks pretty small, I thought. Meh, I can make it! I cleared the cement pole with my side mirror and concentrated on not hitting the car next to me - and heard a scary CRUNCH. For a second, I couldn't move. I thought this couldn't be happening to me. Where was I? Why was I here?? My sauce is on the stove! Abort! Abort!
The pole got me. Or rather, I got the pole. But there was no time to assess the damage - I needed that bread. I straightened my car in the (cursed) parking spot, hopped out and ran into the bakery with five minutes to spare, but was still the fourth person in line. Images of my apartment going up in smoke started flashing through my head. My turn came soon enough and I asked what types of fresh bread they might have.
"Oh I'm sorry, we're actually all out," the cashier said.
Is this not a bakery?
Fine, I do realize it was a gamble trying to find fresh bread at a bakery five minutes from closing. But now I had a scratch on the side of my car and didn't even have bread to show for it. I decided to take another gamble and see if the market down the street had fresh bread, even though I was pretty sure it didn't. Lucky for me they did stock fresh bread from a local bakery so I counted the trip as somewhat of a success, plus I didn't even burn down the apartment!
Sadly, the scratch is going to cost a pretty penny to fix. But at least when I had to 'fess up to Mark about what I'd done to the car, I could follow it up with, "But look! I made lasagna!"