Last night’s medication aided lack of sleep did not bode well for .. well anything really, but definitely not rational thinking.
It transpires that Grumpy had slept on the couch so as to allow me the freedom to sleep, uninterrupted. Chippie, upon arriving at Grumpy Pants’ bedside at 1.13am and finding him missing clearly determined the best option was not to sneak in that way, but come around to my side and knee me in the face on his way in.
It would explain why Grumpy left him there, to lay across the bed and kick me repeatedly, but does not explain why I was pushed to the edge of the bed.
Or, I guess “Chippie being 3” is explanation enough.
The family went for a walk to gather important provisions for our afternoon of entertaining guests (family over to celebrate Grumpy’s birthday of earlier this week) and, upon our return, I deduced the cake was cooled enough to remove from it’s form.
I did remove it. Well, some of it. The bit that wasn’t touching the sides of the silicone kugelhopf came out. The rest stayed in.
Grumpy assured me it would be fine, just put it on a plate and ice it.
I went and had a shower.
I was craving the scrumptions chocolate icing I had planned to smother the cake in.
I should not always listen to Grumpy. When I returned from my shower, the weight of the cake had caused it to break into four rather large chunks.
I didn’t particularly want this shaped cake. I wanted a normal round cake. But my round cake tin thingy is missing because the rest of the household are oblivbious to the fact that the top shelf in the corner cupboard is the “baking shelf” and where all baking related paraphernalia, including measuring cups (stack them!), measuring spoons (clip them back on the thingy!!), mixing bowls (No, that one is for mixing cakes, you have other bowls for storing your raw chicken wings in!) and my fucking round cake tin live!
I know crying over broken cake is not going to fix the problem. It was just that, coupled with a computer that has suddenly died, an overwhelming week coupled with broken sleep and, now, the requirement to use my ill-functioning brain to create something that could pass off as “cake”.
I made the yummy chocolate icing anway. I dribbled it thickly over the mangled bits of cake. I even removed some chunks still stuck in the cake form and filled gaps with chunks of cake. I dribbled choc-icing over them to.
I topped it all with berries.
I managed to produce a cake that looked pretty good, if I do so say myself, and who’s inner represeted the state of mind of its creator … mangled and broken! Hurrah!
It was an expressionist cake!
It also afforded me an opportunity for some stress relief as there was far too much icing to go on the cake, so I ate it out of the saucepan, using my fingers. Great big swabs of it. Nom!
It was served and eaten with cream after out barbeque lunch.
After which I promptly sat on the couch for 3 minutes before falling into a deep sleep and awake to find two other bodies, the biggest child and the smallest child, tanlged up in eac other and lying across my legs.