There were good days, and there were shitty days.
Then there were hormonal days. Damn, was it a hormonal day. Cramps, irritability, the whole kazoo.
Delia hadn't woken up happy, but she'd woken up with cravings. Thankfully, with her fridge always full to bursting, she always had just what she needed to scratch those culinary itches and alleviate her hormonal urges. Popping two or three painkillers to ease the worst of the pains, Delia sauntered over to her fridge with two pans in hand, piled on the ingredients in her arms until she looked like she was supporting the weight of the world, and readied herself for the morning's work. No pain, no gain.
On went the white headband, to keep the hair and sweat from her eyes! Down went the apron, the sign of a culinary warrior! She would slay these terrible hunger pains and the demon of cravings!
Damn what anyone said, she was going to have stir-fry at a time where any other Pilot would be having waffles and pancakes! No standard breakfast gruel for her, no sir!
She always kept the door open, when she cooked like this. Not only did it let out some of the heat and steam, but she always felt incredibly guilty if she ate alone, since she tended to overcook so much when she was crampy. An open door all but advertised the smell of curry and the sounds of delightful sizzles, and hopefully the attention of some hungry passersby.
Anyone who walked in at this point would find Delia almost dancing in place, juggling three different dishes on the stove- a rather large pot of yellow curry, a stir fry with tofu and peppers, and a hot and sour soup. A rice cooker was bubbling away cheerily off to one side, the oven was on, and something was happily simmering in a crock pot.
Her sweatpants, fittingly enough, had 'kiss the cook' written squarely across her backside.
