Like water off a duck's back

Yesterday was a new experience for me.

You see, I failed at something.  And I didn't self-flagellate myself into the ground.

I was baking up a storm yesterday; one of the things I had planned to make was sugar cookies - sugar cookies I've made probably half a dozen times now.  I'm not sure what possessed me to take an extra brick of butter out of the freezer when I got up, but I did.  Foreshadowing, perhaps?

Because I'm all neurotic and stuff, I don't like taking my laptop into the kitchen because I'm clumsy scared I'll accidentally spill something on/in it - I don't even like to have it on the dining room table (which necessitates 937 steps back and forth across the kitchen) because it might, I don't know, suffer from steam or something.  Instead, we have a dry erase board that sits on top of the fridge expressly for writing out recipes.

I wrote out the recipe I've written out five times before.  The one with seven simple ingredients.  Except I wrote the first (and arguably most important) ingredient down wrong.

I wrote down 2 3/4 cups of sugar, not flour.  I didn't catch it.  Even when I started measuring and thought it was a lot of sugar.  Even when I wondered why the sugar was the first ingredient when, normally, it's the flour.  Even after I dumped my one cup of nicely thawed, room temperature butter diligently taken from the freezer the night before into the mixer and started it spinning.

It wasn't until I was getting ready to combine my dry ingredients and realized that a) there WAS no flour written down and b) sugar featured TWICE that I realized my mistake.

Now normally I would have verbally assaulted myself into a red-faced, embarrassed mess who was too upset and disgusted with herself to even continue.  For some reason, yesterday was different (maybe it was that foreshadowed butter than only required a couple of minutes on the warm stove top to be sufficiently soft enough to use).  Yes, I did shake my head and call myself a dummy a few times, but it stopped there: I dumped the waaaaaay sweetened butter in the garbage and started over. 

No harm, no foul.  (Or fowl if you're punny like me and want to play off the title... hehe)

Seriously, this is such a departure from how I usually treat myself that I've been thinking about it since yesterday - enough to merit a blog post.  I know it may seem ridiculously insignificant and pointless to a lot of people, but it means a lot to me.  Granted, I wasn't exactly *nice* to myself, what the "dummy" and all, but I was SO much more kind to myself than usual.  :)