flops

So I made myself some pancakes last night, going for a nice, soft food, still feeling a little pang where my wisdom teeth used to be. I loved the way it sounded: "I'll just whip up a batch of pancakes," as if I would pick up that ladel and work magic.
But instead I found every way to go wrong. I could never quite get the heat on the pan right. Some were hard, some were doughy in the middle. They came out all odd shapes and sizes, and I was dropping things all over the place.
I felt like such a helpless child. "What's my problem?" I asked my parents, all flustered. I thought I had the hang of this by now.

Humbled by a batch of pancakes.
That sums up where I've been in other parts of my life lately. I had forgotten how much error can be in simple things, how unwise I can possibly be. I thought I was smart and capable. And I thought that, for pete's sake, twenty-two years would have taught me a thing or two.