I have two bananas on my counter. These bananas are looking sad. No way am I peeling one for my breakfast cereal. I can't risk it. But I have this new thing I'm trying called "Don't Throw Away Food." But what to do with the bananas? My frugal mother made banana bread with hers, but I can't find the recipe. I call my sisters. They can't find it, either. Then I think, "CUPCAKES!" Of course! I grab the nearest cupcake cookbook and decide to make, for the first time in my life, cupcakes without a box of cake mix. To be specific, I decide to make Vegan Banana Split Cupcakes.

I go to Mustardseed to pick up the rest of the ingredients I need to make said cupcakes. Saving those two, sad bananas costs me $25.

I come home to make the cookies. The ingredients I'd purchased seem to multiply on the counter every time I take my eyes off of them. Measuring cups give me attitude. I actually...SIFT...things. I have to look up "sifting" in the front of the cupcake cookbook first for tips. I melt pineapple preserves. I moosh bananas through a sieve. I chop dark chocolate chips with an appropriate-sized knife (slicing my left index finger with a butcher knife while trying to open a tub of cottage cheese on Monday morning has taught me a lesson that I’ll remember for at least another week). I make a total fucking mess. I place the cupcakes in the oven and relax for a few moments with my leftover Japanese food from dinner on Monday night. I put Stranger Than Fiction on the television and fantasize about quitting law school to open a bakery.

The timer buzzes. I check the cuppies. Not done. I reset the timer. It buzzes again. I check the cupcakes. Still not done. I reset the timer. It buzzes again. The Deathcakes are still not done…I feel like I’ve been baking for days, and I remember why I went to law school to begin with.

I decide the cupcakes need vegan buttercream frosting. I assemble the ingredients, fire up the hand-mixer, and am greeted by an explosion of powdered sugar. Zeus runs circles around my feet trying to inhale as many chunks of shortening and margarine as he possibly can. Though I halve the recipe, there is an alarming amount of buttercream frosting. I frost the cupcakes, and the bananas I didn’t want to waste have been replaced by a tub of buttercream frosting and a vat of basmati rice that I made to compliment my leftover Japanese food. Not wasting food is difficult.

Twelve little cupcakes have officially kicked my ass.

And yes, they’re fucking amazing.