Sunday. Sundays are bad. I don't like Sundays. Generally none are good but some are less worse than others and some are just positively dire. Today is Sunday. And it's not good.
Today I needed comfort. Badly. I wasn't sure what sort of comfort I needed although I have an idea it was comfort of the male kind as I was sorely tempted to phone the significant ex. That would have been a pointless exercise as he doesn't do comfort in any way (another reason why he is an ex) and besides he lives some miles away which is generally a blessing. I really needed the keeping you safe and warm and making you feel good with big cuddles kind of comfort.
Failing that I decided to phone a friend. Everyone was out. I was the only one in on a Sunday. The need for comfort was growing. I rang round again. Then a friend answered. Oh that was a big mistake. I was feeling vulnerable and wasn't being very good at hiding it, she was busy and didn't have time and so the conversation ended with me tearfully apologising profusely for being such a difficult person. The need for comfort was close to going off the scale here.
So I made a cake. A chocolate cake. A great big, gooey, comforting, chocolate cake. My chocolate cake doesn't care if I'm difficult, or needy and show it, or can't keep up socially because I don't have money. My cake just wants to be eaten. By me. My chocolate cake wants to comfort me in any way it can. No questions asked. No judgements made. No payment needed. I just have to eat it.
For my part I love my chocolate cake unconditionally. I don't care that its top slid off its bottom and it's flat one side because I cut off a burnt bit and it looks like this
I love my chocolate cake for all it's idiosyncrasies. I love my chocolate cake for its comfort.
And this is me - ready to be comforted.
Mmmmmmm................ all better now.