What?

On Sunday I made a small but elaborate cake for Boyfriend's brother, who is still in town. I made it at my parents' home so that my own brother could direct my every move. The cake turned out perfectly. I put it on a cake pedestal and gingerly drove it home.

Today I drove it, half-eaten, back to my parents' place. My mother, who knows that I rarely leave anything half-eaten, did a double-take as I returned the pedestal with the cake centered perfectly on it. She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't wanna do dishes," I replied.