Cooking brings me no joy in this world at all. Any time I prepare something, I focus on the cleanup that will need to be done afterward.

My brain screams danger danger this isn't going to be worth it.

If I push those thoughts out of my head and do it anyway, I am universally disappointed that my brain's warning will always turn out to right.

It wasn't worth doing.

I can see for a holiday or a special occasion or something.

But the food isn't worth the cleanup.