Leftover Carrot Cake

Today, I have a dilemma I've never had before...

I have leftover carrot cake. Yes, I know. Shocking. Unheard of. Borderline disrespectful.

Sure, I could just take the whole dish and a fork and go to town, but I don't think my diet would approve. That's definitely what Annie the Porcupine would do—she doesn't have to worry about her waistline. Or judgment. Or crumbs in the bed.

So here I am, sitting and staring at this cake, trying to come up with constructive ways to use the leftovers. My brainstorming session has led to the following thoughts:

1. If I make it into a trifle... am I really eating the same cake? Or is it now an entirely different dessert? Because if it's a different dessert, then it might not count as cheating on my diet. Right? I could crumble the cake, layer it with whipped cream and pudding, and toss some nuts on top. Boom: a parfait of denial and deliciousness.

2. What about carrot cake pops? Easy to make. Crumble it. Mix with frosting. Roll into balls. Dip in chocolate. Suddenly I'm crafty and my carrot cake is now they look small enough to not feel like a whole slice.

3. If I'm eating healthier, I don't need to change the cake—I just need to rebrand it.Breakfast Cake. Add coffee. Eat while standing up in your kitchen so it doesn't count.

4. Maybe I name the last slice Carl and let him be my emotional support cake.Carl wouldn't judge me. Carl listens. Carl understands. Carl is always there when I need him. Until he's not.

5. I could throw a squirrel birthday party. I could make tiny hats. I craft little nut-shaped gifts. I take the cake outside, put it on a leaf, and let the forest friends gather. No one has to know. Especially not the neighbors.

6. Roland would love this one—grab some toothpicks, use frosting as mortar, and build a glorious carrot cake castle. I shall call it Fort Frosting.

7. I could start the Carrot Cake Cult. Every morning, I bow to my slice and whisper:

Crumb of spice, crown of cream,

You sit on thy plate like a pastry dream.

I ask thee, O Frosted One, with noble grace—

Why do I eat thee... yet still leave no trace?

8. I could be responsible and boring. Wrap the slices individually. Freeze them for a rainy day. Future me will find one in the back of the freezer, whisper "I love you," and eat it frozen because waiting is hard.

So... that's where I'm at. Should I be worried that I'm this emotionally invested in leftover dessert? Possibly. Will I still eat it? Absolutely.

Long live Carl the Cake. May his crumbs be ever moist.

And as I finish up this blog and go to take my picture of my one piece of leftover carrot cake...

By golly, it's gone.

And now, onto a new mystery: Who ate my Carrot Cake?