Memories in the Mundane

It generally happens when my head is empty.

I’m running, I’m driving, I’m cooking, I’m trying to sleep, I’m thinking.

I’m stuck in my head.

And memories just regenerate and I have nothing to do but remember.

And it’s not touching things like finding a card.

It’s random crap that I can’t even BELIEVE I remember, like when my brother told me I made the worst mac and cheese ever.

I was 12. Maybe 11. He was in middle school. He went to middle school at the HIGH SCHOOL which made him and his friends a big deal. And I always wanted to impress them. He asked me to make mac and cheese and I happily accepted.

Because, seriously? I’d been making mac and cheese from a box for years by that point. I loved that shit. I had the decreasing butter, increasing milk down to a SCIENCE.

But he gave me specific instructions.

Don’t cook the noodles all the way.

Add twice the milk.

If you say so, bro. But I made it to his specifications. He told me to.

It was gross.

Crunchy. Runny. Inedible.

He called me out on it, called it the worst mac and cheese ever. And I, in one of my now-recovered first moments of bitch, called him out on his terrible directions. He relented, we laughed, it was over. I’m pretty sure they made a frozen pizza.

Twenty minutes of life that was somehow remembered and now will never be forgotten.

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