Let them eat cake

You know, I think history has been unkind to Marie Antoinette. This morning I woke up (grumpy) to a grey looking, overcast, depressing blah rainy/foggy morning. Definitely not the type that brings joy into whoville.

I wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, then trudged up stairs to wake any errantly sleeping children to share the joy (right) of the morning. I came back down, and, being a man, immediately started looking for some kind of food to lighten the moment. I discarded the idea of toast (no jam.) I repelled at the idea of eggs (do you know where they come from!) Cereal had no attraction (had it as a snack last night.) I then started to root around in the freezer to see if there was any back-bacon (I make no apologies - I like the stuff.)

And There It Was.

A leftover hunk of chocolate fudge CAKE. A smile slowly spread across my face. The food warden was at the chiropractor and was therefore unable to defeat my purpose. I gently, reverently, almost caressingly removed the cake from its cold, cold repository, and spoke soothing words to it as I removed the top cover to expose its dark chocolatey richness. "There, there," I said, "Daddy will soon make you warm!" I turned and grabbed a fork from the drawer behind me (Hey, we do have SOME manners in this house...) Deliberately I chunked off pieces and slid them ever so gently past the lips, over the gums, look out stomach - here it comes! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Several more forkfuls soon followed.

And then it happened.

I mellowed out. Why, I even started to smile, and began to think that maybe the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

If only those idiot frenchmen had listened to Marie, the French Revolution may never had happened...