Thanks for the great and probably expensive education you gave me. I find that the hours I poured into those degrees make me entirely ill-equipped to handle raising and storing my own food. I am underqualified for this task and my husband's "alternative mix" on i tunes blasting in the background is not going to save me from my certain and inescapable fate.
Surely, three cans of tomato sauce would not be hard to "put up" so they say in the biz. I scoffed at the tomato, but the tomato has beaten me. It's squishy squishiness has demolished any last hope I had of surviving on my own in the wilderness. After 3 hours of back breaking, juice splattering madness I give you the fruit of my wild-aspiration-wielding labor:
Yeah, there are three of them, and yes, that means 1 hour a jar. Will they taste better than the one I could buy for $1. 86 at Winco? Probably not. Will they even seal overnight while I find my dreams flush with slimy peels and spurting seeds? Probably not.
Consider this my lesson learned. Please send Ragu.
Love,
Your daughter
This is very funny. Sorry to laugh at your misery.
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