We fixed our plates and put them on the dining table and then the Mister went back to get a drink. I heard glass breaking and him screaming, "Oh god!" and ran in to see what happened. He had reached into the cabinet and as he grabbed his favorite glass, it slipped and hit the counter below, exploding into thousands of pieces right into the freshly cooked food, all over the counter and the floor.
Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaad. So we had to throw all of the food out because we could see tiny glass shards glittering and gleaming in them. The poor Mister. He said that right before he went for the glass, he thought to himself that maybe he should cover all of the food so that it didn't get cold - but unfortunately he didn't. He felt terribly awful as all of the food went into the trash and we spent the next long while with him cleaning up all of the glass and me washing all of the pots, pans and now empty casserole dishes. It was not our finest hour.
To save ourselves, we had to remind each other that at least we got a plate apiece before the food got ruined. And it was terribly yummy. And thankfully, we hadn't been cooking for guests who were about to arrive. And like our Mothers would have told us as children, there are a lot of people who don't even have as much food as we had on our plates. And hey, the crescent rolls were spared.
Here was the soundtrack in my head as I did the dishes:
P.S. - As I was writing this, I heard glass break on the other side of the house. Running towards the scene, I found that our little gremlin cat, Pip had shoved one of my prized cafe china saucers off of the bar where it shattered all over the ceramic floor. Then, she was running amongst the glass, attempting to eat it. Oh yes. Luckily, I got to her in time and I don't think that she got any. THAT was the silver lining in the scenario. And that I happened to remember something that I hadn't thought of in years - whenever someone would break something in front of my Grandmother, she'd say, "You breaking up housekeeping?"
Until next time,
x's and o's (and dishpan hands),