Monday, May 27, 2013

It was a fine holiday weekend.

Until I broke the base off one of the last two wine glasses that belonged to family friends that are long dead.  I have been nursing those glasses along for 25 years.  I started with 6 and now there is one.  I have no idea how it even happened, it was as if the base was just suddenly OFF.

Like the fellow in the Monty Python skit.
The leg was off, bitten by the tiger and  the base of the wineglass off, and in the trash.

I didn't want to think about it too much because I am getting better about not being all hoardy and crazy and attached. 

I am almost a Buddhist in my lack of attachment.

That is a bold faced lie, I am nothing even close to a Buddhist, but I am trying hard not to cling to things so much or so often. 

Today I was washing dishes and I noticed that my mother had given Rolf a beer stein and I was annoyed, mostly because those heavy things always fall over a break other things in the dish rack. 
Just when I was thinking that thought,just after speaking on the phone to my father about a chair belonging to the grandmother with the Firestone dishes,  the stupid stein toppled over and crushed a beloved Firestone custard cup and it smashed into the sharpest shards of glass I had ever seen and sliced my ring-finger deeply, causing it to bleed like crazy.

This all happened just before Freyja's friend Charlotte was to arrive for a playdate and just when I was about to make Freyja a tuna salad sandwich, except with lettuce leaves instead of bread. 

So there I am with this profusely bloody and bleeding finger, wrapped in an IKEA napkin, and a hungry child and shards of glass sprayed around the room, and blood dripping on the worn out shitty looking kitchen floor.

I got out the vacuum because I am afraid the kids and animals are going to get cut.
I am vacuuming up the glass when Charlotte and her mom arrive.
Luckily, Charlotte's mom is the sort of person that doesn't judge you by your worn kitchen floor, or pooling blood. She did offer to get me a band-aid from her car, which was nice, but I was happy enough with the napkin for the time being.

I explained the whole tuna salad/ custard cup situation and my mother's propensity to give heavy mugs.

I had to cut my ranting short to prepare the tuna salad, because we all know how Freyja can be when she's hungry.

I had been having a sort of weepy day; one of those days when you don't feel good or bad, but like something might happen to push to needle to the other side of the dial, one way or the other.  That kind of day.
 I suddenly remembered that Rolf's girlfriend  had repaired a glass Christmas ornament for me.  Which naturally led me to rummage through the trash in search of the broken wineglass.
Which in turn brought me into contact with the shattered custardcup which caused me to cut the hell out of my other finger, which triggered the memory of me, changing the catbox late last night and putting the garbage-bag, containing the glass into the outside can.

I love those family friends.

I love that wineglass, but there is no way I will ever dig through kittylitter to retrieve it.

So, there you go.

It's gone.

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