This morning, my boss tells me
"We just got awarded to large projects for the fall. This calls for a celebration this afternoon. Cake! Can you fix that?"
So since I was heading downtown for an errand over lunch anyway, I stopped by one of the fanciest bakeries in town and picked out a strawberry cream cake, which looked pretty and delicate, yet sturdy enough to probably tolerate a bike ride without sliding apart.
It didn't. It slid apart. I tried to fix it. Like I try to fix Lou's toast after she demands it cut in half only to change her mind two seconds later and decide she wants one big toast. I was equally unsuccessful. Cake and toast are hard to fix.
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