I love the day after a birthday.
Today I came home with great anticipation, and lo, a slice had survived. I’m realistic: I live in a house with four men. I figure I had approximately a one in fifty shot at a second serving of last night’s birthday cake. Well, I played the birthday cake lottery and got a break.
So today I came home, checked the top of the fridge, and there she was, waiting for me. So I poured a glass of wine (Castaño Monastrell Yecla ’06), peeled the saran wrap off the 9×12 glass baking dish, and ignoring all caustic remarks (possibly related to food/wine pairings?) from the Husband, dug in.
Life is relatively pleasant, I must say.
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