The Easier Road

I don’t always take the easy way, but admittedly sometimes, it does prove a temptation.

Never, however, with baking. The more involved and challenging a recipe appears, the more I am anxious to attempt it.

But, housework, aha, that is indeed a different story. The shortest road is without a doubt the most appealing to me for that task. A decision made from the first. moment I became aware housework was a traditional responsibility that fell primarily into the realm of the female of the species.

And that explains precisely why I bought the new skillet. My recent purchase is oyster white with a bright chartreuse handle, and the enclosed manual provided easy cleaning directions. Wash carefully by hand with mild detergent it promised, and forevermore, nothing will stick to the bottom of this amazing pan.

For six weeks or maybe just a mite less, I religiously obeyed the instructions until that one fateful day two weeks ago. And yes, I can make excuses; an appointment later in the morning; an unexpected visitor who arrived as I was preparing to leave, but yes, I must confess, they are just that, excuses.

So deliberately I popped my new skillet into the dishwasher and turned the knob. When I returned home and emptied the machine, my new pan was immaculate, and pristine. I felt totally vindicated for taking the easier of the two roads. Even my Mother would have understood.

Until I began cooking breakfast this morning, and despite its lovely white appearance, something has changed. The eggs that once melded together so joyfully into a lovely scramble, no longer managed the slow embrace of white and yolk. Instead they clawed at the edge of the pan resisting the inevitable union, and I knew the easy road had its penalty.

As I gazed at the less than inviting concoction I began to wonder how often I may have allowed relationships to fade because of taking the easier way. Have I given the same attention to friends and strangers passing on my journey that I initially gave to a new utensil until I became just a bit weary. Did I soon find distance rather than communication the easier path and not try quite so hard?

I would like to think I haven’t, but it is something I can’t be absolutely certain about. And honestly, I’ll never be quite confident that some relationships may not have withered because I chose the easier road.