Monday, October 31
rewriting the cliché
OK, I was grumpy. It had been a trying day at work. A part time job at a theater sounds like perfection, and it often is, but Sunday had been a parade of problems and I was tired. And I needed to buy groceries. That task needed to be checked off the list of weekly chores so I could devote real time during the week to getting stuff done for the Christmas shows.
So, maybe I was a tad impatient as I tried to stuff a cauliflower the size of a small country into the fridge. Maybe I should have thought it out. But I didn't and so the new container of half and half that had perched precariously on the edge (sort of like my life lately) gave into the gigantic veggie and toppled to the floor where it popped open like a creamy grenade.
Instantly, I was standing in a puddle of cream. The hems of my good work pants were white. My feet, still in the black trouser socks, were white to the ankle and I was standing in the middle of it all. Our old house hasn't a level floor anywhere, so the milk ran to the back door, under the fridge, behind me, beside me. All of this as I alternately yelled for Russell to save me and cursed the heavens, the hells, the girl scouts, anyone who came to mind. He came to my aid with a roll of paper towels to make a paper trail upon which I could escape my mess. I hopped off, pulled off one, sock, then the other, grumbling, whining, self pitying. Stepped put of my soggy slacks.Now I am barefoot, wearing a sweater and underwear, Holding my dripping duds, I turned back to assess the situation and, probably wallow in some more poor me prattle and what do I see? Russell, on his knees, mopping up my mess and Scooter the cat sitting placidly at the edge of the mess, lapping it up, in kitty heaven.
Scooter seldom comes when I call. Russell almost always does. Russell knew I needed help, Scooter somehow knew there was cream on the floor. Whatever the reason, there they were and it cracked me up and I changed into my jeans and dry socks, made dinner and all was well with the world.
Laughing over spilt milk.
So, maybe I was a tad impatient as I tried to stuff a cauliflower the size of a small country into the fridge. Maybe I should have thought it out. But I didn't and so the new container of half and half that had perched precariously on the edge (sort of like my life lately) gave into the gigantic veggie and toppled to the floor where it popped open like a creamy grenade.
Instantly, I was standing in a puddle of cream. The hems of my good work pants were white. My feet, still in the black trouser socks, were white to the ankle and I was standing in the middle of it all. Our old house hasn't a level floor anywhere, so the milk ran to the back door, under the fridge, behind me, beside me. All of this as I alternately yelled for Russell to save me and cursed the heavens, the hells, the girl scouts, anyone who came to mind. He came to my aid with a roll of paper towels to make a paper trail upon which I could escape my mess. I hopped off, pulled off one, sock, then the other, grumbling, whining, self pitying. Stepped put of my soggy slacks.Now I am barefoot, wearing a sweater and underwear, Holding my dripping duds, I turned back to assess the situation and, probably wallow in some more poor me prattle and what do I see? Russell, on his knees, mopping up my mess and Scooter the cat sitting placidly at the edge of the mess, lapping it up, in kitty heaven.
Scooter seldom comes when I call. Russell almost always does. Russell knew I needed help, Scooter somehow knew there was cream on the floor. Whatever the reason, there they were and it cracked me up and I changed into my jeans and dry socks, made dinner and all was well with the world.
Laughing over spilt milk.
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1 comment:
I'm really glad that you've made your own website and have in fact gived to the world your thoughts. I admire your work and feel I can refer to what you've done. Most people can't even imagine having such talent. I hope that you know how lucky you are. :) Good luck to you in ALL your endeavors. :)
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