A couple more thoughts on this:

1) Cake is love. It is my "love language" (if you'll forgive my use of an obscenity). Actually, my other love language is leave-me-the-hell-alone, I think.

2) This reminds me of something that recently happened to me. Please forgive me if I've already told you this story.

Last April, I received a mystery package of Easter Eggs along with a printed message saying "Happy Easter from the Easter Bunny". Since I am paranoid about accepting anonymous gifts (much less eating them), I tried to find out who sent them. Very, very few people have my address (and even fewer like me enough to send me chocolate). But no one claimed responsibility. To this date, it is still a mystery, and I feel thoroughly freaked out by it all. I'm far too married to have a secret admirer, and my youngest son thought it far more likely that I've pissed someone off and the chocolate is poisoned. I've kept the package but not touched it since, as my youngest thinks we should perform forensic tests on it. But we keep putting it off to do other things. :)