Photo by basykes
My husband came home from work on Friday with a bag of friendship bread starter and a sheet of paper with some instructions and a recipe. He was happily explaining the process to me and said that everyone was doing it where he works. I could see from the look on his face that he assumed I would be ecstatic to add another task to my list of things to do in my vast and seemingly endless spare time.
I stared at the yeasty bag of slime in horror. My husband doesn’t remember this, but many years ago, a coworker gave me some friendship starter–and it was a monster that soon took over my life. I made the first batch and packaged up some starter for my own friends. What a great idea! I made a second batch–nice! On my third batch I started becoming anxious–did I stir the bowl today? Was it day six? Did I need to add sugar, flour, and milk today? Do I have any more friends to give this mess to? I can’t just dump it down the drain–what a waste! I wonder if our mail carrier would like some?
Finally, I found myself holding my bowl of the food equivalent of Star Trek’s tribbles over the sink–hovering over the gaping hole of the garbage disposal. Should I keep it going or just end it now? I faced the bubbling batter and won. I rinsed the remains down the drain with a sigh of relief and swore to myself that never again would I be caught up in the friendship bread obsession.
I gingerly took the toxic bag from my husband’s hand and tossed it in the bin.
Have you ever been caught up in a friendship bread loop or something similar? Please provide all the gory details.
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