The other day, I was reaching in our cupboard and noticed that there were two bottles of wine on top of the fridge, one precariously close to the edge. So I moved it to the counter. You would think that act of courageous and dynamic foresight would count for something around here, but not when you are the wrong side of karma, which, if you’ve been reading, you know I am.
So yesterday, events conspired to allow me a full thirty guilt-free minutes alone in my house. I threw in a load of laundry and skipped through the kitchen on my way to, oh, I don’t know, read a book, watch House Hunters, PAIR MY SOCKS, anything my heart desired! The world was my oyster!
But as I galloped by, I noticed a cupboard door open. Having recently discussed with my sister-not-in-law her compulsion to make sure kitchen cupboard doors are closed, I reached out to shut the door. So I hold Kristi responsible for the CRASH, SMASH, SPLAT which followed. Also, because if she would ever come over and drink my damn wine it wouldn’t be standing on top of my refrigerator, being pushed closer to the edge every day by cereal boxes. So, thanks, Kristi. Thanks a lot.
And boy Jesus Christ on a cracker if you’ve never smashed a bottle of red wine open in your beige kitchen you can’t even imagine the mess it makes. I had to stand there for a full 10 seconds just adjusting to my new reality.