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Yesterday I found myself involved in my usual Monday night activity of trying to figure out how to leave my current life behind while risking nothing should things not work out according to plan (the plan: live in Costa Rica with many, many women.) As usual this caused much consternation and I decided to bake a batch of cookies to calm my racing intellect. In the fridge I found an unopened tub of country crock, some pre-shredded Monterey Jack cheese and a tupperware full of bacon grease I had been saving. I brought these ingredients together in a robust corn meal batter and was presently surprised by both the dough’s consistency and its avant-garde texture. Things were going great and I had almost forgotten my dilemma, that is until I reach for the rolling pin.

In most homes you find a certain number of basic tools and goods: sugar, spoons, pots, pans, microplanes, etc. For whatever reason my life lacks many standards of domestic decency. So when I grasped the wine bottle with which to ply the dough all my unfulfilled dreams came rushing back with each gooey pass of the Charles Shaw. Something had to be done.

Luckily something could be done. Because I live with someone who works for rich people, the give her and her fellow employees tokens of appreciation all the time, such as gift cards. I decided then to see if one of those gift cards could buy the rolling pin I deserved. So I grabbed a handful of cards, put the dough out on the porch to get some air and proceeded to the great bustling thoroughfare of North Michigan Avenue in hopes of matching the names on the card to reputable establishments.

Things did not start off well as the first 5 cards where to various coffee depots and, after 5 raspberry infused chocolattefrapumochas, I was beginning to loose hope that any of the cards would get me anything but scones and double vision. As luck would have it my last card turned out to be for a fancy kitchen store (reasons I knew it was fancy 1.) The displays had actual food in them. 2.) They had knives behind glass. 3.) There was no bargain bin).

Working Boy: I want to buy a rolling pin.

Cookery: We have many to choose from.

W.B: I want your cheapest one. I have a gift card.

C: For how much?

W.B: Fifty dollars.

C: That’s it? I don’t know if we have anything under 50.

W.B: What the hell are you talking about.

C: Well, we have this wooden spoon, it’s only 25 dollars.

W.B: Why is it varnished?

C: It’s for displaying in your sunroom or lake place.

W.B: how much does a actual functioning wooden spoon cost?

C: Sixty five dollars.

W.B: That’s ridiculous. How much for a rolling pin?

C: 75 dollars.

W.B: I am not made for this world.

C: Security!