Where The Fuck Am I Going To Put All These Apples?

All These Apples

I want to make it incredibly clear that this date was awesome. Absolutely fantastic and a top five all time on my list of third dates. Our first date failed to crack my top five first dates but our second date stands firmly at number two of best second dates. I probably lost you there so I’ll just give you admin permission to the Best Dates spreadsheet in my Google Drive. It will all make sense.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t think apple picking would be any fun at all. I know now that I was correct but we found a way to make it entertaining in our own little way and that’s what makes us such a good whatever Cosmo says we are after the third date. It’s just that…

I really don’t know what to do with all these fucking apples now. I was so preoccupied with the more obvious anxieties of this date that I failed to even stop and ask myself, “What happens after?

An online search of “what is apple picking?” quickly answered all my initial questions, and I now regret not delving deeper. One nagging query that still lingers is don’t these farms have workers? Why the hell am I paying a farmer money to work his land? I thought it best to let those sleeping dogs lie in the name of “trying to hit that” because no one would be sexually interested in a man accosting an aging farmer about his hiring practices.

But now that this top five date is over…what the fuck am I going to do with all these apples?

Granted, my overzealousness in picking only the largest apples and filling every basket to capacity is to blame but partial recrimination really should be paid to the Apple Picking Tips For Beginners website for never explaining the apples were mine to keep. Now I’ve got a trunk full of Gala, Red Delicious and Honeycrisps. I’ve got no choice but to use them all.

Apple tarts, apple turnovers, apple pie, baked apples, escalloped apples, apple salmon crostini, there are literally thousands of recipes for apples. I can make them all, twice, because I’ve got 17 bushels of apples blocking the walkway from my kitchen to the living room.

Also, I fucking hate apples.

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