There is always a small sense if loss when you break a dish or a glass while you are in the kitchen doing said dishes. It's an "Oh damn it, now I have to clean up shards of glass" moment. And sometimes "Damn there goes the set" moment.
Close your eyes and picture, if you will, the very top shelf of dishes. Got it? Okay. I was unloading the dishwasher and I reached up to put a glass bowl away, everything on this particular shelf was glass, can you see where this is going?
One of the little dohickeys that holds up each corner of the shelf popped out sending the entire contents of the shelf careening down to my head, the counter top, inside of the dishwasher and then onto the floor.
"Oh damn it, now I have to clean up shards of glass."
Taking into the fact that I've had several small accidents this summer, I'm starting to fear for my life.
The unmistakable sound of chaos ensuing in the kitchen aroused the attention of the husband. He rushed in and took a bowl off my head, then paused. I don't know if he just didn't know where to start or was taking in the scene unable to comprehend what had happened. Once he saw my face I believe he regained control because he started throwing broken pieces in to a bag, fast. He was avoiding my inevitable reminiscing of the broken pieces. Because everyone knows that the top shelf holds objects of things not often used or the "good stuff." He was diffusing a situation, which he's very good at. He turned the conversation into that damn dohickey and where the hell was it?
I'm not certain of just how much I lost during the kitchen chaos. I suppose I'll find out when I go to reach for something up there and realize it's missing. Also I'm walking around barefoot today so I'm sure my next post will be that of how I stepped on a piece of glass I missed when I was cleaning up shards of glass.