If you don’t cook, you will be hungry.

"If you don’t cook, you will be hungry.”

A very wise person once said that. One of my favorites, actually. Deep philosopher. My Aunty B.

Now, I have many talents. Okay, not so many. But one thing I can proudly say is this: I have mastered the sacred art of cooking food that could put you on a road trip to Australia.  

So this fateful morning, I woke up with a stomach that was clearly in a foul mood. “What did I eat yesterday?”

Nothing. Just snacks.

Well, when you think about the drenched spaghetti I made a week ago, you’ll understand why. That disaster deserved its own obituary. I looked at the leftovers every day and said, “You know what? Imma hit the store.” Even the memory of the meal makes me acknowledge the door to the toilet every time I pass by it. 

Then the thunder came again. Rooooaar. My stomach wasn't even having any of it. So, I called my friend.

“Babe, I’m hungry and I think I’m sick.”

She said, “You’re not sick. You’re just hungry. Go and cook.”

Cook? I wish she knew that just the thought of my own food was the sickness. But I was hungry. So I decided to try again. I cooked spaghetti. Again.

Last time, I added too much water. This time, I thought I was being wise and added too little. The result? It was half-cooked spaghetti with the rare personality of a rubber band. 

I stared at the pot for a long time, wondering if God still answers the prayers of bad cooks.