The Cupcake

I can't quite put my finger on why government-funded offices are so incredibly irritating. Maybe it's the stark white walls. Maybe it's the cardigan police who are inconvenienced by your very presence. Maybe it's the baby doll chairs they link together to provide as much personal space invasion as possible. Maybe it's the prehistoric computers they make you use, consuming you with the sense that your life is moving at the speed of someone on a Wal-Mart scooter.

But there I was in the unemployment office...again. Dealing with the same issues...again. I waited for about an hour, listening to the laughter and banter of people who could have been calling my name. I knew my next stop was my former employer to sign some unfinished paperwork. It was the makings for a grumpfest. 

I left moody--no surprise--but what I did next is what makes this Hot Mess Friday.

I went to the cupcake store next door. How the taste of disdain doesn't float over and poison the batter I shall never know.

"Let me go find a box for this," said the baker (are they still called this?). She was dusted with flour and had a touch of frosting on her face--but in a cute way. I think I will own a bakery in another life. And Justin (or second life husband) will fall in love with me as I describe my favorite cake. He will reach in and lightly remove the frosting that's on the tip of my nose.

I was this close to saying the truth: I don't need a box, mam. It will only get in my way. But I let her do her thing. She sealed it with a sticker and passed it to me with a smile, probably assuming this was a gift for someone special.

I got in my car and ripped that box apart like it had also denied my claims for no reason and went to TOWN. 

I was an awkward 7th grader with braces and the cupcake was the unfortunate soul who asked me to the school dance and tried to seal the night with a goodbye kiss. It was ugly. I looked like a kid whose parents paid a gazillion dollars for a cake smash photography session.

Feeling like a raptor in Jurassic Park, I took a breath and laughed at myself. Hard. 

Who would be friends with me? Would I be friends with myself?

Yes. Yes, I think I would.

I was going to turn this into a wonderful comparison for something quite deep. But then I decided...no. Sometimes you just gorged a cupcake and it's time to move on. You get back up. You drink a Special K protein shake the next day and ask the god of metabolism to forgive your sins. 

Happy Hot Mess Friday, everyone. You can have your cake and eat it too.