October 4, 2007

Coke, Coke Everywhere...

There were really three things I was going to choose from to write about today. I was going to have a go at Britney Spears ('why can't we look away?' Uhm, I can. Totally), this creepy/freaky museum I went to in Salta, Argentina to look at long dead mummified children offered to the Incan gods 5 centuries ago, and a couple of stories about people with a disorder that makes them want to have their limbs amputated. You have to admit, that is a vertiable smorgasbord of topics.

But first, a blogger needs a cup of tea. As I opened the cupboard to get a mug, a little bowl I LOVE hopped out at me. It was perched precariously on a high shelf (yes, by me. I would so love to blame the kids, but they don't put anything away, let alone putting it away wrong). It kind of jumped out, which would have been bad enough. I had that slow motion moment where I knew it was going to break, and I couldn't stop it. I have terra cotta floors, and there are no second chances with terra cotta floors.

But the beloved little piece of crockery made a pit stop on the counter. It bounced against a full, soggy paper cup of Coke, a leftover from the drive-thru nastiness that was dinner last night. This too was my fault. I don't even drink pop, but when you order a dinner, you get the pop. Even if you don't ask for it. I told the girl once not to give me the pop, and she wandered away from her post for five minutes to find out if this was even legal. A manager finally came over the little speaker and begged me just to take the pop...setting precedents like this at Wendy's is harmful, apparently.

I figured someone would drink the pop. All food in this house just gets sucked into a vortex, some black hole where one moment the fridge is full, and the next moment there's only enough stuff to make celery. So I left it on the counter. Silly me.

As the bowl hit the cup, the cup sagged and popped its lid. Coke went everywhere. A new magazine was sitting on the counter. With its whisper thin pages now Coked together, the only thing that survived were a dozen of those cardboard subscription cards. Those cards are the cockroaches of the literary world. They will outlast everything.

A medium Coke is much larger if you spread it all out very thinly. The cats sat watching me. As I sopped up the mess (and threw out the pieces of my perfect bowl), I couldn't yell at anyone. This was my fault from start to finish. Three towels later, and I still have to wash the floor later. Maggie, the wee delicate cat, as I write this is walking across the floor, doing the sticky paw dance. And glaring at me.

So much for Britney and volunteer amputees.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't you just love days like that?

I'm sooooo glad you didn't write about Britney.

October 04, 2007 8:21 PM  
Blogger Lorraine said...

Yeah, it's a bit of a gimme. But, but, but, as a parent, it's just so tempting.

Then I decided my day, in comparison, was just as off the rails as hers was. It's all relative, after all...

October 04, 2007 8:34 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sorry about your bowl, I want to hear about the volunteer amputees.

October 05, 2007 3:44 PM  

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