There is not an answer to every question

Cupcakes or cake? Why can I never make up my mind? Cupcakes! I finally decide. Chocolate of course. Chocolate goes best with a fruity butter cream  It is too quiet. I need music. The family should be back in a couple hours. I should be done by then.

So let's get started.

I grab a bowl while fumbling the eggs, oil, and cake mix in my hands. I quickly put everything down before I break something.

Do no make a mess, Carson.

I follow the directions on the cake mix box until the bowl is filled with all the necessary ingredients. I plug in the mixer, but stop. How can those yolks be perfect circles? I literally hit them on a bowl. How did they not break? What is this nonsense? I pick up the mixer and, without turning it on, poke at the yolk so it will ooze over the brown powder. Once everything is covered in yellow slime, I press the mixer to the bottom of the bowl and turn it on. I watch the segregated ingredients slowly become one until it is all one smooth, brown substance. I grab the cupcake pan and pour the thick liquid into twelve separate slots.  

While I let it bake, I scan the fridge for fruit that would make a good butter cream. Strawberries. Perfect! 

I make the butter cream carefully, trying not to get powdered sugar everywhere. But I once again put too many strawberries in it. Instead of the light, fluffy consistency, it becomes a thick, pink liquid. When I pour the topping on the mini-cakes, it seems like a volcano erupted on a chocolate mountain. 

After I place these eruptions on a platter, I start to clean. I begin to question everything because I hate cleaning. Why do I even bake? Is it because I can do anything with baking and still get a great result? Or maybe because it allows me to be alone, escaping reality. It could also be that I like to see people enjoy my creations. 

I do not have an answer to this question and I am okay with that. Not every question has an answer.