It’s the small things…

1. On Wednesday, the cap came off a bottle of salad dressing I had in my satchel to take to work. It left about a cup of liquid there. When I took it out of the bag, it dripped all over my desk and the papers on it. It dripped on the office rug as I put it in the trash. My office smelled like vinaigrette all day.


Wrong way to start the day.


2. That evening while Peter was hammering a nail into one side of a kitchen column to hang a small work of art (a birthday gift from a friend), a ceramic clock I treasure flew off the other side of the column and shattered on our granite counter.


Wrong way to end the day.


3. The next morning Peter and I had bickered over the following by 8:30 a.m.:

a. How much the bulletin board that had been below the shattered clock should be raised.

b. Why I dimmed the light in the kitchen

    c. What strategy we should use to park the car


Another bad start.


Then I got the following email from my daughter-in-law:


Grady (our two-year old grandson) is reading a cookbook—as you know, anything will do. He came across a picture of a roast chicken (which looks like a turkey) and said "Grammy makes that! Grammy makes that!"

Just to let you know that memories of Thanksgiving still linger with him.

Have a great day."


And thanks to that email, I did.


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

The comments to this entry are closed.