You’re tired from work, your butt hurts from driving too much, and you’re about to get grumpy because your stomach’s rumbling and the idiots on the road are preventing you from appeasing your angry empty stomach.
A few minutes later (though they may have seemed like hours), you arrive home to find the food of your childhood–of afternoons running around the yard, dressed in a white
tank top sando with baby powder on your neck and a towel on your back.
You sit down, you eat, and then you remember that you are alive, in all the fullest, luckiest, most wonderful ways.
Hurry up the Cakes verdict: I am alive.