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In a perfect world, I wouldn’t mind chopping onions. I would zen out and enjoy the task, my mind serene and eyes not streaked with tears. Or, even more perfectly, I’d have a giant kitchen with room for food processors in assorted sizes, ready for dice jobs both large and small.

As it is, I have a tiny kitchen that requires Jenga-like maneuvering on the part of both humans (my roommate and me) and supplies. I don’t have room for many devices and the ones I have are often a pain to lug out. Also, I hate chopping onions. I cry uncontrollably and there is nothing zen about it.

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Filed under: Fitness