Growing up, my mom would make these delicious Pilsbury cinnamon rolls. Smelling them in the morning as a child was the greatest feeling ever. Now I’m all old and realized, oh all I have to do is stick these shits in the oven? I can do that!
I don’t have these mysterious cake pans that my mom used to cook them in, but I have a cookie sheet and that looks the same color to me. Apparently not. I always burn the bottoms no matter what I do. A few years later, today, I decide to read the directions all the way through. Oh, there are special directions for a cookie sheet. Efffffff uuuuuuu. Finally, I have a delicious cinnamon roll by cooking them for 8 minutes rather then 13.
Lets chat about this container that they come in – who invented this thing?! It is like a death trap. Wait for it to, “pop”? It’s seriously terrifying every time I have to do it.
Well, my Sunday was better after I learned to read directions.
Sometimes Dagger gives me this look of disapproval: