Auntie isn't bouncing up and down like a child on Christmas Eve because I am old and creaky. The anticipation is pretty much the same, though.
You should see my fridge. It's a solid wall of ingredients, and I really really really want to start turning them into food.
I can't, though. Not yet.
Tick tock.
Tomorrow I start chopping and measuring. I do this thing where I prep all the ingredients for a dish in separate baggies then put them in one bigger bag. It's just like one of those delivery services except that I did the shopping too. And chose the menu. Okay, except for the precisely measured bit it's nothing like a delivery service.
Then Wednesday I can cook everything which can be made the day before. Wednesday is the big day, but at least I can start tomorrow.
Right now there are metaphoric tumbleweeds rolling through my empty kitchen while I wait.
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