To counteract the residual effects left over from being involuntarily celibate for almost three years, I have discovered a brilliant distraction: baking. No, this does not involve getting kinky with a wooden spoon and dessert products and strutting about wearing nothing but an apron, (PLEASE, for the sake of your mental and physical well-being, get that image out of your mind this instant). It's more a case of tricking my brain into releasing endorphins by undertaking an activity that requires light physical labour, skilled hand movements and to-ing and fro-ing over a period of sixty minutes or more in order to produce something that gives me a brief high, warms me up and makes me sleepy. Okay, so you can't spoon with a tray of blueberry muffins, or engage in post-feast pillow talk with a devil's food cake, but there are other benefits to baking.
1. Sharing a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a cup of coffee with a friend who is going through a bad break up says 'I'm here for you.' Attempting to regale her with tales of the limitless ways the new marathon man in your life satisfies you three times a day says 'Sorry you couldn't be there, but check out our wicked slide show!'
2. Cleaning up is fun. (Delving into this one any further will have me teetering over the edge of the already tenuous P.G. 13 barrier I have erected around this blog, but you get the idea).
3. You can discuss the virtues of hand whisking over electric beaters with your Nan. Initiate a discussion about similar uses for your hands in a different setting, and you're likely to put her in the coronary ward.
4. Baked goods are terrific fundraisers. Donating a hot guy wrapped in a festive tea towel to the school fete might bring in a lot of dollars, but it'll also make your next parent teacher night a tad awkward.
5. A basket of goodies is a great way to welcome someone to your neighbourhood. Having a hot naked guy 'hand deliver' them might make your septuagenarian neighbour's decade, but may prove problematic should she decide to send over her husband in an act of reciprocation.
Yeah I've drawn a pretty long bow with this one, and let's face it, it's complete bull honky, but if donning an apron and pretending I'm Nigella for a couple of hours takes my mind off the fact that the only item of furniture around here that squeaks is the beleaguered kitchen chair on which I sit my expanding arse to blog, so what? It's fun, it's cheap, and I'm saving our glorious nation thousands of dollars a year in pharmaceutical bills. Furthermore...piss off.