One Tablespoon Too Much

One tablespoon too much and everything is ruined. Now I look at the oyster sauce, the innocent looking perpetrator, and imagine an ideal world where everything is reversible–including the cooking process–and nothing regrettable needs to be regretted. The problem is that in order to save time, I made a big batch of it. The shear volume of it adds to my despair that I will have to swallow my failure, literally, for the next several days no matter how bad it tastes. Well, if I can just throw it away. I don’t have too much problem of wasting food as long as the amount doesn’t make me feel guilty. Now such a big pot of it will make me feel very guilty. Also I really don’t understand this–although I don’t have a good memory, how come those things I regret frequently come to my mind, and those things I feel good about, not so much?

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