Sometimes it's really kind of an honor to suck at something.

This is what she was thinking as she surveyed the mess in front of her, mentally re-tracing the steps she had tried to follow and wondering when she had taken a wrong turn.

Her mom was out of town for a conference. After a few long, boring speeches about responsibility and family, she had been entrusted with the care of Jordan and Sara for four days. Her mother had left some money for them to use. The problem was, she hadn't left enough money for them to order pizza and take-out every single day, for every single meal.

This led to the unavoidable tragedy of Rachel cooking.

She was very careful not to attempt anything ambitious. She even stayed away from the oven and limited herself to stovetops and microwaves. She took every precaution that novice cooks should take to ensure that they don't overreach their skill level and butcher a meal. She followed instructions on boxes to the letter and stuck strictly to the most basic, idiot-proof meal ideas.

This time it was breakfast. Sausage, pancakes, eggs.

So what was the problem, she asked herself as she tasted her burnt sausage, burnt pancakes and too-runny eggs? As she struggled through these first bites, the answer came to her.

She just sucked really hard at cooking. Like, so hard she was starting to justify it as an accomplishment. She wasn't just an okay cook, just a bad cook. That was for wimps. She had the courage, the skill to suck the worst.

She smiled to herself. Yeah, that was it. That was how she was going to spin it in her mind so she didn't have to feel embarrassment at her inability to complete this basic household task. If you're talented at something, you don't have to work very hard at it. And she didn't have to work hard at all to make food taste crappy. So, actually, she was a very talented chef.

Jordan and Sara both had expressions of cautious optimism on their faces when they came down for breakfast. The hope that maybe it would be better this time. When they saw the food Rachel had laid on the table, they exchanged weary glances.

"Rachel?" Sara asked, her eyes wide and pleading, "Can we please order pizza?"

"I already told you, we don't have much pizza money left. Now, eat your eggs. They're getting cold."

Jordan looked at Rachel with amazement. "Why would it matter if they got cold?"

Rachel smiled. Even though she didn't make crappy food intentionally, making her sisters eat it was satisfying passive-aggressive revenge for their backtalk and whining while their mom was away. And pretending that she didn't realize how bad the food was, playing innocent and making them feel too guilty not to eat it?

Priceless.

"Come on you two," she said, still smiling, "Dig in. I think I'm really getting better at this whole cooking thing."