What did I have for breakfast this morning? Cake. Glorious red velvet cake with cream cheese icing, which was leftover from my dad's birthday dinner on Sunday night. Don't judge me. This has been a difficult week so far. Not only are we still feeling the repercussions from the previous strikes made by the Curse of the Halftime Chili, but I somehow came down with a severe cold over the (blazingly hot) weekend, and I have to go to the funeral of an amazing and lovely lady on Thursday (she did not ingest any chili, FYI).SO DAMMIT I JUST WANTED SOME CAKE. FOR BREAKFAST.
While my early-morning slice was totally unsuccessful in declogging my sinuses or soothing my swollen lymph nodes, I must say that it was just what the doctor ordered. I was in a good mood as I drove to work, my demeanor was slightly more cheerful than normal when I responded to the nasty emails sitting in my inbox, and I didn't even blink when I dropped a huge stack of pre-sorted-by-region bank statements on the mailroom floor in full view of five other people. My thighs might hate me later, but they can just BITE ME because eating cake for breakfast was a thoroughly brilliant idea. I won't be doing it every morning (see Thighs, we have reached a compromise) but when you're having a really bad day, a little caeccckkk (as Franck calls it in Father of the Bride) is all you need.
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