Many years ago, we attended a dinner party at the home of a long time friend. We were one of several couples in attendance. One of the couples kept disappearing to make out in various rooms, so the Phenom and I were left to fill the void of two couples.
The long time friends served a lovely meal. The wife of the couple had spent a good part of the day baking and constructing a rather elaborate chocolate cake for our dessert. And, after a dinner and grand conversation, the couple returned to their kitchen to serve up dessert. As we were talking, we suddenly heard a crash and turned in time to see the husband standing in the middle of the kitchen with a horrified look on his face and the chocolate cake splattered at his feet.
His wife, the grand hostess, cleaned it up and served ice cream. Later, the husband told us that he felt terrible about dropping the cake and even more terrible because his wife didn't even yell at him for it.
Tonight, I baked a cherry pound cake. I had every intention of taking it to the office to share with people tomorrow.
It was beautiful coming from the oven. I flipped over the tube pan, and it slid out perfectly. I put a plate on the cake and picked up the rack to flip it over . . . and dropped it. I now have a very tasty mess in a tupperware container (it was dropped on the counter).
And, I realize this was my kick in the seat from karma for the many times I'd referenced my friend's dropped cake.
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