if it’s possible to drown your sorrows in cheese danish then i do believe i’m in the middle of it as i type.  under covers in bed, laptop open, and cheese danish beside me slowly being devoured.

do i have sorrows to drown?  i don’t think so, but it’s ever so much fun to pretend.  i could imagine that i was a brilliant actress who was suddenly struck mute by sheer chance and found solace in this luscious dessert.  or maybe i owned a large company and my friend, mr. co-owner, cheated me and suddenly i found myself empty-handed.  i would of course, when given all the numerous possibilities of how one could find comfort after such misfortune, tend towards pastry.  or maybe i’m a heartbroken maiden — her father has refused her the love of her life and shut her away in a tower.  instead of letting any hair down, i’d make myself nice and rotund off this high in calorie feast.

yes, i need to play that i’m drowning sorrows away one bite at a time.  how else can i explain that suddenly half the pastry is missing?