Made sinigang this morning because apparently when life gets unhinged, I become a soup person now.

I don't even like sinigang that much. But here we are...

Got a whole day of hospital things ahead; tests, discussions, people saying medical words at me with Very Serious Faces. And my brain said you know what you should do? Cook. For an hour. In this Philippine heat.

So, I did.

And honestly? It slapped. Which is annoying because I wanted it to just be fine, not good, because now I have to admit that stress-cooking works and I am not ready to become that person.

My kids will come home later to a pot of sinigang I made before 9am on a doctor's appointment day, and they will not question it, because they know me. They know that sometimes Mom just does things.

I don't have a profound reason. The tamarind didn't heal me. The fish sauce didn't bring clarity.

But I made something and it tasted good. And now I have to go let the doctor poke at me.

Could be worse.

The Sinigang was good.