Let me eat cake

Twenty-four hours is an arbitrary time frame and quite inadequate, in my educated opinion (I have a PhD), to the task of celebrating properly the day of ones birth, a momentous occasion if ever there was. Which is why I like to celebrate a birthday week, as I am doing, just incidentally, as we speak. My 49th birthday week, no less.

That said, I have no objection to anyone eating their entire birthday cake in twenty-four hours or less and acquiring, by means of subtle and if necessary unsubtle persuasion, a second or third birthday cake to last through the week. This would be particularly justifiable, say, if you were unfortunate enough to be required to share your first birthday cake with not one but two teenage males, which doesn't seem fair in the least, but happens nonetheless. And if that birthday cake happens to look like this one, with real berries on top, then I would say it's practically your duty to get your hands on at least a second birthday cake with real berries on top before the week is out. On it.

Meanwhile, I'm spending my birthday week waiting for confirmation from the publishers who have expressed interest in publishing my book to tell me if they will indeed be publishing, and if that's not reason enough to continue eating cake for as long as it takes, I don't know what is. Let me eat cake.