Last night I dreamt of white cake with vanilla buttercream icing. In my dream, my Dad ('cause he's cool like that) took me on the hunt for the perfect cake. We didn't find it, but ate many while searching for the one I wanted. My Dad, of course, made the infallible choice of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. I chose nothing and awoke full of dream cake and longing. Now, in my waking hours, I feel like I'm still searching for my perfect slice.
This is not a metaphor. I just want a piece of cake.
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