Complacency

I find it so amusing that I get all smug about stuff I barely know or understand.

Take for example dance. It took only one compliment from someone I was dancing with to get me all swell-headed; it also only took one advanced class after that to send me crashing back to reality.

Or cooking. One particular cooking party which did not turn into a debacle lulled me into believing that cooking was easy, and that it was a matter of time before I became a great chef. Well, a failed mushroom sautéed with butter after that quickly dispelled my gastronomical illusions of grandeur.

What differentiates the aforementioned from plain complacency is that I’m usually my harshest critic. Isn’t this situation so ironic (god, I love the word ironic; it has become my new catch-phrase)?