I filled the pot.
I brought it to a boil.
I reduced the heat.
I let it simmer.
I waited for 30 minutes.
I fluffed the rice with a fork.
I put it in a bowl.
I added gooey butter to it.
I walked to the living room.
I got back up and put more butter in the bowl (still hadn't taken a bite, though).
I walked back to the living room.
I honestly don't know what happened, but I tripped or caught myself on something in my path, causing...
the bowl to fly onto the floor--
luckily not breaking--
of course upside down.
I stared at the heap of beautiful brown rice on the floor.
Then I grabbed the vacuum cleaner and had goldfish crackers and animal cookies for dinner.
So to all of you concerned family and friends who said I was too skinny during Thanksgiving
(brother Kelly: "Your job today is to go into the kitchen and eat"),
let this be proof to you that I do try to fill myself with fatty calories.
But sometimes rice falls on the floor.
I really am eating, I just really, really wish I had a personal chef sometimes.