Another one of Paul’s broken glasses
Yesterday was a day of recurrences.
Nathan didn’t nap well, which has been an ongoing problem for the past month or so.
He was very, very grumpy.
He also got up twice that night and didn’t want to go back to bed.
And, get this… I broke ANOTHER glass.. And not just any glass… it was another one of my HUSBAND’S glasses! Yes, my buttery fingers have struck again. The last thing I broke was my coffee mug. But at least that was mine. My fingers just have this uncanny ability to annihilate things they touch that belong to Paul.
It’s my super power.
I am not proud of it.
I would much prefer the super power of mind control.
And, to make matters worse, I can’t bend over because of my surgery. So there were these little forlorn fragments of broken glass strewn all over the kitchen floor, mocking me from a million different perspectives. So I did the only thing I could think to do.
I swept all those glinting fragments of broken glass into a sad little pile.
And put a bowl on top of it.
A giant, metal mixing bowl.
Right smack dab in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Paul had to finish cleaning it up when he came home. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the giant metal mixing bowl sitting upside down in the middle of the floor. He walked in and was all, What’s this bowl doing in the floor? And I was like, Oh that’s just the coffin for another one of your glasses.
Our supply of drinking glasses is slowly dwindling away.