I am waiting for the plumber. He was supposed to be here at 8:30 AM; it is now 10:00. The audacity required to show up one and a half hours late to an appointment defies all credulity. I should take this extra time at home to do something productive like pay bills, or something relaxing and informative like peruse this month's Sunset magazine. Yet I am paralyzed. I am seething with fury over what an asshole this guy is.
Except the truth is, our plumber isn't an asshole at all. He is pretty wonderful actually. Personable, not condescending, talkative, fun. If it weren't for the constant cloud of stale cigarette smoke surrounding his person, I could picture us being friends. And, living in a house built in 1938, a plumber friend would be wildly practical.
How do I handle this? I've already called his office. He's on his way. I don't want to answer the door tapping my foot and pointedly glancing at my left wrist in thinly veiled passive aggression. It will be hard to keep up my persona of breezy politeness with near toxic levels of bitch coursing through my veins. How will I manage? And of course, the plumber and his lateness are not to blame. Plumbers, cable guys, electrical repair men: notoriously late. I know this already. And an 8:30 AM appointment? Please! Getting out of bed any earlier than 9:45 was a grievous aberration; a momentary lapse in the calm, protective cynicism that customarily typifies my character.
Having engaged in the futile practice of trying to erase the scowl from my forehead in the mirror for the past 15 minutes, I can only think of one other activity to engage in: telling you folks about the cupcakes I made the other day. I am hoping that the absurdity of it will have a warming effect on my icy, black heart.
These delicious lovelies are from Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero, my vegan idols and saviors of my marriage on multiple occasions. They're fantastically rich and spicy with bits of candied ginger in the cupcakes and surprisingly well complimented by the cool, lemony cream cheese frosting. They're perfect and charming and bring a smile to your face, as all cupcakes do. And I don't know about you, but I constantly crave gingerbread around this time of year. If you don't have it already, get the book. Make these cupcakes.
OK. I feel a bit better now. Surprisingly less homicidal, which is a good thing. And supremely smug in the knowledge that the plumber will get exactly none of my cupcakes. Mainly because I've already eaten them all and I haven't any left to give him, but I remain smug all the same.