Ginny
I don’t know how long I have been stirring this stupid ass pot of green mush, but I was over it. We had been doing this since seven this morning and it’s barely twelve! There’s at least six more hours to go. Clem has been my saving grace in this kitchen though.
“Gin, check on the bread,” she ordered.
I opened the oven and looked at the little loaves of multigrain bread. They were puffing up on the top but still gooey in the middle.
“Not yet,” I answered and closed the door. “I’m surprised they’re having us prepare the meal in a kitchen, wouldn’t it have been more authentic if we did it with a fire pit and stone spears?”
“Some things are updated, I guess,” she chuckled at me and I felt bad for complaining this whole time about the way she lives.
“I’m sorry Clem,” I said. “I
