Once More, A Shattering

Again, the tumbling from heights above my head of all things glass and breakable. (This happened two years ago, here.)

In my left hand: a drinking glass ready to scoop ice cubes from the freezer. As my right hand opened the freezer door, bowls stacked atop the refrigerator slid the millimeter-or-two that they needed to slide in order to pitch forward, off the edge into gravity's depths, shattering in the fall the top half of what was clutched in my left hand, and breaking themselves into hundreds — thousands — of light-glittering shards, to every corner of the kitchen.

In my attempt to stop the tumble, my right shoulder wrenched to a place of staggering pain. I was immobilized, in a sea of sparkle and sandal-footed peril, still clutching the jagged bits of the glass that would have much preferred, at that moment, to be a receptacle for a lime-twisted vodka-tonic. My friend who came for dinner, on the porch to take a call, stepped back in to see what the commotion was about, and said something like Oh T.! Always with the drama!

I suppose it's true. It's like I carry around with me cylinders of agitated energy which, without warning, burst out and wreak their havoc on my world.

My son swept (and swept), and because the setting sun illuminated many slivers seemingly immune to the broom's bristly straw, we brought out the vacuum, which (hopefully) finished the job.

I bandaged my bleeding fingers and toes, set an ice-pack on my shoulder and settled in with — finally — my much-anticipated vodka-tonic, lime twist.

This all happened last night, and this afternoon, I ran into the friend who came for dinner, and he had this to say:

You won't believe what happened last night after I got home....I opened the cupboard to get a glass, and glassware slid off the shelf towards me and fell, and shattered! Yes! It really happened!
 
Now this is more synchronicity than I'd like to acknowledge. The last time this happened, my life skidded into wreckage that was a long time in repair.

This time? Fingers crossed.
I like to believe that I've got it under control.