One of my most long standing hobbies is the careful dipping of things into tea. There are a lot of things worth dipping, but if you are to dip only one thing in your life I would recommend the South African rusk .
Peeping into an oven to be met with the vision of an ugly and flopped cake is like suddenly coming face to face with the futility and wretchedness of, well, everything. You see, for the existentially-sensitive, time spent in the production of an ugly cake raises questions best left unasked. Once you consider: “What was the point of all that baking” your are just one fateful leap of the imagination away from the devastation of wondering: “What’s the point of anything?”
What a horror it is to discover that something in your fridge or fruit bowl has, due to your own neglect, been left to spoil. More often than I like, I see my fellow grocery shoppers recklessly buying more fresh produce than they could hope to contend with in the short time they have before it will go bad. It’s a maddening scene. Someone needs to stop these people. I would make it my business to do so, if I didn’t have to hurry home to set about consuming my own purchases in a fervent race against time. To fail in this is to be met with all kinds of unpleasant disruptions: confusing colours, noxious smells and mushy sensations are just a backdrop to the shame and guilt.