Each person has a lot of the first time, the first time to go to school; the first work; the first wage; the first injection...... The most impressive to me, is the first time to cook the porridge.
One sunny morning, I was alone on the sofa at home to read with relish. And I'm constantly in revolt, the absolutely empty refrigerator. Thoughts arise spontaneously; as yourself, cook a porridge. Well, just do it. When I face a smile of satisfaction.
Do I immediately wash the pot, put a bowl of rice, after the wash, then put two bowls of water. Put on the gas stove, a fire, I was a big stone in the heart finally a little down, and finally completed half of the task. I open a small fire simmer, standing motionless in front of the fire, "for a long time yo, how haven't cooked" I in aside their own soliloquy complained, so, I drove to the maximum fire. For a moment, my eyes took aim at a good story book, "the story of Thanksgiving.". I picked up the book and read hastily and without thinking to look up.
I do not know how long, I casually look back, worse, forget to see the fire, bubbles are coming out. I wash the towel, carefully wipe the "naughty" of the bubble. I put the fire has been transferred to the minimum, and then the "Thanksgiving story let me worrying about, my side edge to subject" encounter "does it express author's thoughts and feelings, then at the end of the hero and the heroine met again, they finally can be happy life together... A series of problems came to my mind. I quickly wipe the table, like lightning in general ran to the study.
For a while, I put down the book and ran to the kitchen. I was surprised to see that there was neither porridge nor rice in the pan. I thought it was a little water. Turned off the fire, a sudden burst of burning smell into my nose. I can not care so much, can't wait to picked up a bowl filled with a little porridge, I lick, a thick burnt smell, the original is paste porridge.
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