Perhaps cake was a poor choice

It's official, I will forever boycott Valentine's Day...

Being the single lady that I am, and cause I did it last year, I thought it was a stellar idea to have chocolate cake for breakfast. Why, you ask...cause I can and there is no one to tell me otherwise. Well this year, there was someone to tell me otherwise, but it was after the fact. My body told me no, but only after I'd experienced the taste of the chocolatey cake in my mouth, followed by the sugar rush that kept me skiing like a prostar and then the sugar crash at 3pm, thankfully after skiing was done for the day. The drive home left me disoriented (I wasn't driving) and there were points where I thought I might be physically ill (from the cake, not the company).

the cake

When I finally arrive home, I am grateful to have the evening to myself, although earlier today I found this pathetic. But as soon as I walk in the door I am greeted with the stench of cat urine. An overwhelming odor that makes your nose burn and your eyes water. I quickly sniff around for the origin of the smell only to realize it is my favorite pink ski jacket that I left on my foyer table...EFFER!!

the cat

I grab the cat by the fur on the top of his neck (similar to how mother cats carry their young), he screams, I throw him outside and return to the scene of the crime to clean up. I wisk the coat in to the laundry room and douse it with detergent and anti-stink stuff. Then I return to the couch to curl up in the fetal position cause my tummy still hurts from the chocolate cake.

the jacket

The washing machine cycle ends and I go to take the jacket out and see if all odor has been eliminated. Upon opening the washer door, I see fragments of paper and silver wrapper...and random pieces of gum...Yeah, there was a FULL pack of gum in one pocket!!! And to add insult to injury, not only does my coat still smell of cat piss, but now it smells of spearmint gum!!!

Oh, but wait...that's not all, then my tummy rumbles and I am thankful to relieve myself of the intestinal bloat...except the chocolate cake has come back with a vengence and I have to quickly make my way to the bathroom (I will not explain further, except that I spent plenty of time in there).

You're number one, St Valentine!

Thanks a lot St Valentine!! What did I ever do to you? Tonight, instead of enjoying a lovely glass of wine, while soaking in a bubble bath, contemplating how thankful I am for being single, I will be popping tums, concentrating on my breathing and attempt to comfort "the sweats" by curling my knees into my chest.

I typed this quickly, for fear of any further reprecussions from the cake.