This will be a cake tale. If you don’t like those, that’s cool. I like cake. I’ve often told about how hard it is to buy a certain cake in my neighborhood. How, it seems that you have to get to the supermarket by late morning in order to have hopes of getting a cake. That cakes are placed out twice a week and they are gone very soon.
It’s frustrating. While I’m the type of anal person who will memorize the cake schedule, I’m not the type of crazy who will run out of bed in the morning and pick up cake first thing. Especially not in 20 degree weather. I have priorities.
We went to a lovely 3rd birthday party this afternoon. Met up with some old friends. Charlie had a blast. He got to play with trains that were almost identical to his, but differed only by the fact that someone else owned them. He was thrilled. It was also nice for us to talk to other adults while our kid was entertained. He didn’t need us, and we could be people. It’s nice once in a while.
Since we’re rarely in the neighborhood where these friends live, we don’t often take the train from that station. It’s about a 20 minute walk back home. Past a supermarket. No my usual supermarket, but one, that according to the Entenmann’s website, carried my cake. Not only that, they had 4 of them. Four at 7pm at night on a saturday. Maybe it’s worth the extra walk to go to this supermarket?
I think that I’ve lost it. The detail to which I’m willing to stalk cake is getting a little sad. I used to have interests. Now my interests are cake. When to get cake. Where to get cake. Is this what sleeplessness does to the brain? Is it just parenting? Is it me?