“A lamp is not brought to be put under a basket, is it, or a bed? Is it not brought to be put on the lampstand? For nothing is hidden, except to be revealed; nor has anything been secret, but that it would come to light.”
Well enough, Ian and I ventured back out into the wide world outside our apartment, only to find a sorrowfully depleted congregation at church. Disheartened, we retreated quickly back into our enclave and made bets about when we would next see our roommate. I put on my housewife hat to scrub and foil the filthy stove under-burners and made a coffee cake for our after-church brunch while Ian pretended to be a student and work on a project for several hours. The coffee cake came out beautifully until the very end when the recipe called for adding topping to the already-baked cake (a more beautiful golden you’ve never seen) and broiling it for a moment. The moment, apparently, was too long; my lovely golden came out smoking and black. I felt like a failure as a housewife, but salvaged the meal by making perfectly crispy bacon.