alittleneurotic.livejournal.com[It's roughly an hour since he got into the kitchen, and he has yet to complete lunch. It's easier when he has someone to make it for him, of course, and that's what he's used to, but it's late at night and Liz has been scolding him for waking people up late just because he's too prissy to feed himself. So here he is at 11pm, trying to make a ham sandwich. Only the bread isn't EXACTLY square, and the ham isn't EXACTLY round, so he's having a very hard time and has been rearranging things and trying to place the cheese exactly in the center of the bread. For an hour. It's all lukewarm and not cold at all anymore, and he's beginning to lose it.]
No... don't... stick! Why is bread this way?! WHY IS IT SO HARD TO MAKE PERFECT BREAD? BAKERS HAVE NO SENSE OF ARTISTRY AT ALL! Stupid, stupid... I can't even get the cheese right, what am I doing? If I'm incapable of making a sandwich how can I ever protect people? I don't deserve to be a grim reaper, I should just die... [and so on and so forth, clinging to the edge of the counter and falling to his knees.]