I get in this mood just before, and during the first couple days of my lady time. It closely resembles the mood that small children get in, when they scrunch up their faces and kick a younger sibling for no reason other than the fact that being a little kid is so hard, mixed with teary sentimentality, and ennui.
I wondered out loud if I should do a whole week of desserts, since the only thing that has made me smile in the last couple days was the container of So Delicious Dulce de Leche that is now scraped clean. I couldn't decide on a cookbook for the week, since I have a few dessert ones and they all look good, and was about to blog about how worthless I am as a MoFoer, when my door buzzed. I answered, and it was a woman who lives in one of the basement units, and she thought she'd buzzed B. How she mixed B up with a third floor apartment is a head scratcher, but she sounded so upset that she'd locked herself out, I told her I'd come down and let her in. After jumping back into my work pants, grabbing my keys, and running down a THOUSAND stairs, I met my neighbor. She was standing in the foyer with her little boy. She was so embarrassed, saying "what a way to meet the neighbors" and telling me how awesome I am. I felt my heart swell a little bit as I unlocked the basement stairwell for her. I often worry about losing my keys, because I just moved in here in August and I don't really know anyone. My property manager charges $50 for lockouts! How much would that suck?
That's when I had an idea for this week of VeganMoFo. I'll make a few desserts (not every day, man. That shit was tiring), and deliver them to the few neighbors I have met in this building to lock in that "I got your back" thing, and also to show that I'm not as inconsiderate as the people who live in #8 who throw their baby's diapers out in the em-effing alley.