A Fool's Dozen

Have you ever been merrily working along in the kitchen, totally in your groove, only to look down and realize you've really messed up?

I was making burgers for dinner last night; regular beef burgers for my son and nutty burgers (aka meatless) for the remainder of the family.  Since I make my own buns I got to work early enough to have them baked and cooled in time for dinner.  Well, one thing I didn't weigh and measure was my own preoccupied mind.  Once the dough had proofed I dumped it onto the scale so I would know how big to cut the final pieces so I would end up with a dozen.  Well, I stared off toward the other end of the room as I cut, pinched and rolled the dough into pretty little balls.  I looked down a few minutes later and something didn't feel right.

I only made eleven.  Then I deduced that if twelve is a dozen and thirteen is a baker's dozen, eleven must indeed be a fool's dozen as that is precisely how good I felt about messing that up.  I did laugh pretty hard at this point, which was wonderful because I needed a good laugh.  I still have no idea how I did it; I've checked my math, but my math is nothing to ever be relied upon.  Oh well, it's not the last time I'll I bake with a weighed down mind, nor is the last time I'll ever mess up!