>Shaking yourself off as you walk in the door with a "brrr", you floof yourself up like a cat and hang your ushanka hat on the coat hanger that you have in the hallway.
>Floofus maximus.
"Hey Anon! I'm ho-"
>Oh, that's right.
[spoiler]Mmph ;-;[/spoiler]
>In your fuzzed up state, you head on into the kitchen to pack your ingredients away for later and begin the task of cleaning the entire house from top to bottom.
>Dragging your stool across the floor, you reach up onto the counter-tops and start the task of packing your things away while you idly think to yourself.
>"Hey.. Paradise..?"
"Wassup brain?"
>"Y'know this whole stool thing?"
"Mhm?"
>"Well.. Don't you have.. Y'know.. Wings?"
"I-I.. I mean.. I do but.. I'm just tired. Flying is tiring!"
>"Suuuure.."
"... I'm scared of bumping into things, okay!"
>"That's more like it. Honesty is the best policy. Now, how are we gonna get the house and food ready for Anon? What's the first port of call?"
>Yeah.. What is the first port of call.. Kitchen. Start at the start, and all that jazz.
>Quick glance at the clock.. 5:00, that gives you a couple of hours to get the cleaning done before you get cooking. Should be good.
>Packing the last of your stuff away, you start whizzing around the house at a pace that would give a Wonderbolt a run for her money, cleaning everything in your path.
>Kitchen, check.
>Livingroom, check.
>Bathroom, check.
>Bedroom, check.
>Office.. Eeugh..
>.. Uhh.. That's what we in the trade call "organised" chaos..
>Yeeeeah..Totally.. Just gonna close the door on that one.. *creek*
>.. Perfect!
>Whew, okay, we should be done, and in record time too! You still have a good hour to go before Anon gets back from work, that should be more than enough time to get dinner ready if you get your skates on.
>...
>Walking into the kitchen, you gather yourself and get ready to cook your delicious spaghetti dinner.
>Before you do anything though, you're gonna wash your hooves and Google that recipe again.. Your memory isn't the best with things like this, and you're not quite brave enough to just wing it.
>Last time you did that, you tried frying eggs without any oil and you had a minor freakout when you suddenly realised that they had glued themselves to the pan and began frantically trying to scrape them off in a panic as yolk flew all over the cooktop.
>Definitely not a fun time. Even Anon gave you a knowing look before telling you how you'd made a "rookie mistake" with that one.
>Nudging your wee stool across to the sink, you hop on up and begin to scrubba-dub-dub your hooves in preparation for well.. The preperation!
>Hooves clean? Check. Ok. We're good to begin.
>Rummaging through the cupboard to grab the breadcrumbs and wandering over to the fridge for the rest of the stuff you need, you begin with getting the meatball ingredients out.
>One thing at a time, Paradise. That's how you're gonna get it done. Slow and steady wins the race.
>Climbing back up onto your stool to put your hoof-fulls of cheese, onions, herbs and eggs on the counter, you set to work with your knife and grater, dicing up everything that needs to be diced, and grating everything that needs to be grated.
>Parmesan cheese smells like vomit but when you mix that bad boy with pasta, oomf. It's "absolute nutting material" as Anon would put it.. Whatever that means exactly.
>Onions and herbs all diced up now, cheese is grated.. Eggs beaten.. Check.. What was the next step again..?
>Doing a big reach while on your stool, you balance on one hoof precariously and use your hoof to drag your mobile phone over to you so you may consult the mighty recipe website.
>Despite thinking you know roughly what comes next, you like to play on the side of caution with things like this.
>"You do with most thi-"
"Shush brain."
>Okay.. Let's see.. "Good Food Blog - Meatballs and Pasta" - That's the one.
>"It was a hot summers day last Tuesday. The hubby and I have just gotten back from our amazing vacation to Italy without the little ones, and we discovered this di-"
"Celestia, give me strength."
>Scrolling down rapidly like a mad-woman, you go through about 5 adverts and know just about everything about Karen and her husband Dave barring their blood type at this point, but you're no closer to getting to the next step in your cooking efforts.
>Why do recipe sites always do this absolute.. Gah..! Bullshit!
>I don't care about what your "little angels" Zachary and Kaitlin are doing at their grandparents house while you and your husband are up to no good in Italy, just get to the point and give me the gosh darn recipe.
>Maybe that'd be a neat website idea. Could be a fun one to work on sometime when you have less coursework to do.
>Paradise's Cookbook: Just The Bucking Recipes
>[spoiler]Trademarked.[/spoiler]
>Ah, the elusive "Method" section. I have travelled long and far and faced horrors that you cannot even begin to comprehend to find you. We meet again, old friend.
>Righty.. Step one.. Yep.. Done that, all the prep is good. Eggs have been beaten up.. Yadayada.. Here we go!
>Mash it all together with your han- Well, hooves in your case. All good. You can handle that.
>Chucking everything into a bowl together, you crack open the pack of mince meat and work it all through together with little squashing motions.
>Frickin' hooves man, how do they work? Magic, that's how.
>Step threee.. Advertisement for [spoiler]horn[/spoiler] enlargement pills.
>Very nice.
>Okay, fan oven, so that'll be 220C, easy enough.. *click*
>Step four, roll the mince mixture into golf-ball sized meatballs, easy peasy.
>This is super easy, you're on a roll!
>Get it? Roll.. Because you're rolling them into meatballs?
>Having a giggle and a cringe to yourself, you can't help but find yourself both hilarious and a complete spaz sometimes.
>Anyways! Back on track! Into the roasting tin with a drizzle of oil and a shake-shake-shake they go.
>Okay, 20 - 30 minutes in the oven for those guys, should be able to work on the sauce and pasta while you wait on them to cook through and brown up. Just gotta wash your hooves again first because you've got them clarted in meatball mix.
>Hopping off your stool, you grab everything you're going to need for your sauce from the cupboard and fridge and grab ahold of your big cast iron pan, barely managing to lift and nudge it up onto the cooktop before shoving your ingredients onto the counters and turning on the heat.
>Nice, okay.. Crush 4 garlic cloves, and sizzle them for a minute in 3 table spoons of oil. Seems easy enough..
>Back onto your stool you go.
>Stepping back up onto your stool, you feel it slip away under your hooves on the tiled floor and bang against the cupboard, stopping it in its path.
"AHH! [THWACK] Wohoaah.. A-almost.."
>There, there. You're alright. Just relax.
>Take a deep breath. It'll be fine.
>Just remember, you can do this. Don't panic. There's nothing you can do about a stool sliding across a shiny floor. Stuff like that just happens sometimes.
>No harm done, get back at it, kick it's ass and show it who's boss.
>Okay! Back to it!
>Crushing the already peeled garlic up with the side of your big knife, you toss them into the pan with some oil and get them cooking away while you start on the other stuff.
>Chopped tomatoes, wee bit of caster sugar, parsley, seasoning.. Check.
>Step five then.. Chuck them all into a big pot and simmer for 15 - 25 minutes. Great. Easy.
>Okay, what's the time.. 7:30!? Already?! Shoot, okay, better get your skates on.
>Quickly getting everything prepared, you throw it all in the pot and get your simmer on. You wanna get this ready for him coming in the door. Like, in the bowl and waiting on the counter for him ready.
>It's gotta be perfect, he's probably been working really hard today..