When you simply put in so much effort, and the person meant for it doesn't appreciate it.

Did you notice in my previous post how excited I was to bake for Mothers' Day? I might as well not have. It wasn't easy baking alone, okay.

So I had this very ambitious idea of baking cookies ever since I learnt it from CIP. After my family had gone to FCBC in the morning, I jumped out of bed immediately, usually I'd slept till they came home.

Started baking and mixing stuff, and guess what? It rained, like bulls and cows. The window was opened and my hands were full of butter, sugar and flour, etc. And I had to rush to close the window and in the process I stubbed my toe against the cupboard and I went OUCH, but I didn't care and continued mixing after I've washed my hands. What I did not expect was that my toe bleeding, so the white marble floor had all these blood stains on it I discovered only later on.

And then my mum called, 'We will be back in twenty minutes. Bathe and get ready. We're going out for lunch.' That was the crunch time huh! I had to wash up, bake the dough, clean up the place and bathe. I was flying/limping all over the place, while trying not to stain the floor with anymore of my blood.

I was late, of course. But I managed to clean up, except to pack the cookies and the really large heart cookie I spent so much time shaping.

'Who on earth said you have permission to bake? You come down RIGHT NOW!' That's her, my mum. I don't know why, those words simply pierced me. And my stubbed toe really hurt.

Felt like crap after that. Is it ironical that the heart cookie crumbled to pieces after I tried getting it off the aluminum foil? Maybe, it isn't at all.