Butterless

I'm housesitting now. I mentioned that before right? Anyways, it's been an experience already. There's something about living in someone else's house for a few weeks that teaches you a little about yourself and about the other person. I make judgements about what to expect based on what I know of the person, and what I see at a glance around their place... really we all make those kinds of judgements. But those often-misconceptions can really sell a person short, or make expectations too high.
For example, a week before I came to house-sit, I got a quick tour of the place and intro to the animals. From that tour, I made assumptions on what I would need to bring with me. She gave me a glance at a cabinet with all kinds of cooking gear in it that had been passed on to her by others who were moving out of town. I SHOULD have clued in when she said she's barely touched it and that I should feel free to use it up while I'm here. Then I noticed the Kitchen Aid mixer on top of the fridge, and thought it was going to be a perfect place to do some baking.
And then I moved in. And went to grab a pan from drawer under the oven, only to realize they were all old, stained and dark... you know the kind that is ten times more likely to burn your cookies because they're just in such bad condition? Ya, that kind. I tried digging through the cabinet with baking supplies, only to realize half of it was stale and hard as a rock or open bags starting to spill. That's not so bad. I decided I wanted to bake some cookies before work tonight. So I went back to my apartment to grab my baking sheets and a few ingredients that I noticed she didn't have or were stale. I even stopped at the grocery store for some fresh steaks and asparagus for supper. (Note to self, going to the Northern on the last Saturday before Christmas... ranks right near the top of the stupid scale.) I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of fresh goods they had there, I've been looking for asparagus for the last 3 weeks, finally had some today. I stood in the lineup for quite a while, and finally got out and headed back here to bake. I get the steaks marinating (If I'm putting that much effort into supper, I'm going to make enough for left-overs tomorrow) and start to look through the ingredients I need for cookies. Only to realize... I forgot the butter. There's only a tiny tub of margarine in the fridge, no back-up supply in the freezer. Sigh. I'm not going out there again, not at -34 before the windchill. I'll pick up butter from my apartment on my way home tomorrow morning after work.

Of all things, forgetting butter... how did I manage to forget the butter? And I don't know the neighbors here. Sigh.
A kitchen aide mixer does not a baker make. Though it does make a baker happy, until she realizes she lacks the ingredients.