Jenny Cracked Corn and I Don't Care

You know, it's never the big things that break me.  I can handle bleeding faces and seizures.  Not that I am inviting them but crisis, I can deal with.  It's the little things like spilling a bowl of goldfish crackers or wet-sock that push me over the edge.  Today it's burnt popcorn.  I don't know what it is about popcorn that is so hard to master.  My success rate is probably in the 10th percentile at best.  If I happen to magically cook it to perfection, I don't want to eat it.  I want to set it on my shelf in a pretty bowl to look at.  It doesn't matter if I always buy the same size bags, or same brand, or cook it at the same temperature, time of day, etc, etc, etc....  undoubtedly I end up with a bag full of scalding hot kernals and not even enough "popped" corn to feed a rodent. OR a bag of charred mess that stinks up the house for an entire day.  Today it was the later.  Burnt crisp like an albino on the beach.  And this is why I take anxiety meds.  Should have gone with the goldfish crackers today.