I think she liked the cake (or at least somebody did!)
It was a day of nonstop meetings and I had to rush back home from DC before walking with the cake to the Metro stop, where I picked up a Zipcar to drive over to deliver it at Angela's house.
Let me tell you something I quickly discovered in the short 10-minute walk to the Metro station: 8 inches of flour, sugar, and eggs starts to feel like a ton! My arms were starting to shake by the time I arrived. Also, Angela called while I was walking, and that meant one-hand cake supporting, while walking, while talking on the phone. I had visions of my graceful self swandiving over invisible sidewalk cracks as I heroically sacrifice my entire body to save...the cake. Thankfully, such visions never materialized and cake and I arrived safely at the Metro station.
In the car, I turned on the A/C full blast and drove with one hand on the cake over to BF's house, where he--as the passenger--was delegated full time cake-protection duty. You should have seen the look I gave when he innocently asked whether he should put the cake in the back seat. If looks could talk, mine said, "WHAT?!!!!!111eleventymillionWHAT?!" So we drove on, with him protectively holding the cake box on his lap, shivering under the arctic A/C blast. We all arrived safely at Angela's and had a delicious spaghetti dinner, and the cake for dessert. Yum!
Happy birthday, Angela!
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