Which paragraph is better?

Kitchen

Rain suddenly poured down as I was walked back to my house. I didn’t bring an umbrella with me. Perfect. I zipped up my Nike jacket and ran as fast as I could. I was only a few meters away, and as fate would have it, the heel from my new L.K. Bennett boot broke. And I went crashing down on the pavement with a splash. “Damn, damn, damn!” I muttered. This is really not my day. Luckily, no one was around to witness my fall. That would have been so embarrassing. I collected the rest of my dignity and hobbled back home. As I entered the house, drenched from head to toe, I kicked my stupid boots off and put it in the shoe cupboard. In the living room, I saw my mom watching EastEnders. She’s totally addicted to that show. I bet if the house was on fire, she’d save the DVD of it. I tiptoed noiselessly until I reached my room. I certainly don’t want her questioning me about my appearance. I closed the door shut, unzipped my wet jacket and put it in the laundry bin. I stopped to look at the mirror. Sh*t, I look horrible. My usually straight blond hair was all tangled up. My face was wet, and so were my clothes. I got a towel, wiped my face, and quickly grabbed some clean clothes. I ran to the bathroom and slammed the door. I hurriedly bathed, dressed and combed my hair. Now I look more decent. I went downstairs to let my mom acknowledge my presence. Until now, she’s still glued to the damn tube.

“Hi, mom.” I said. Finally, she looked up to see my face. “Hi, honey! You’re home? I didn’t see or hear you come in.” Yes, you didn’t, because your eyes were on the television. One of these days I’m going to disconnect that set and throw it out the window.

“How was your walk?” She asked.

“Fine. It suddenly rained and I had to run back to the house.” I wasn’t going to tell her about the heel episode. “Oh, did you take a bath? I don’t want you to get sick, hon.” She pressed pause and looked at me with concern. “Yes, I took a bath. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” When my mom gets worried about me over the littlest things, it drives me over the edge. I sometimes have to say “I’m fine” about a hundred times.

I was about to head for the kitchen for a snack when my mom called me. “Athena, I almost forgot, your dad called to ask if you’re available on Saturday. He wants to take you to that new mall in Riverview.” I stopped short. My relationship with my dad isn’t what you’d call great or close. My parents divorced when I was six. I’d always hear shouts, doors slamming, my mom crying...It was a terrible time. My mom left my dad and took me with her. I grew up understanding these things. My mom’s side is a pretty rich family, so we weren’t the kind who lived from one place to another until we finally settled down. Riches don’t go into my mother’s head, and we live in a big house, but no maids and no pool. My mom was brought up to be disciplined, thank God for that. I love the ordinary upbringing. When you flaunt your riches, guarantee that you’ll get no friends at all. Now, my mom’s pretty cool with dad. She doesn’t like to talk about him, though. Only if it concerns me. “Athena?” My mind snapped back to the present. “Are you available?” She prompted. “No,” I replied. “I have a project to do.”

“Okay, then.” Luckily, my mom’s too good so she believes my lies easily. She went back to watching her show. I continued heading for the kitchen to fix myself a snack. I love peanut butter and banana sandwiches, like Elvis. When I really need one and we ran out of peanut butter, bananas, or bread, I sometimes go mad. I even ran 6 blocks to the deli just to buy the necessary ingredients. My mother thinks I’m a lunatic when it comes to PB and banana sandwiches, but I can say the same for her obsession with EastEnders.





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My mother has been the only one who has taught me the real Salvadoran “touch” to every food I can prepare. She has really been my role model in everything in my life, especially in the kitchen because she taught me the way to give food the Salvadoran flavour since I was a little girl. She is still doing this, even now that I’m already an adult. One thing I loved that she taught me to prepare was her special “Pudin de Pan” (Bread Pudding). The ingredients are not hard to find. It only needs bread, margarine, vanilla, eggs, sugar, milk, and a “secret ingredient”. Sadly I cannot list her “secret ingredient”. If I do. It won’t be a special recipe anymore. She mixes all the ingredients and leave them in repose for a while to let it gain a better taste. In a separate bowl, she prepares the caramel with brown sugar. When the caramel is ready, she adds the mix into it. Eventually she puts everything inside the oven and the pudding will be ready around forty five minutes later. Every time she is baking a 'pudin de pan', the aroma would get into every room in the house. You can smell it outside the house as well; that’s why our neighbors can always guess when we are makingWhich paragraph is better?
the first one is much more interesting