Wednesday, October 6, 2010

No Woman Ever Shot A Man While He Was Doing The Dishes

Yesterday I was alone in my apartment doing dishes. I grabbed the soap bottle, squeezed, and an unusual amount of bubbles came out. It looked like there were hundreds of them, now floating all around me like fireflies.

"Pretty," I thought.

So I finished the dishes, puttered, tidied, and when I finally went back to the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, I was amazed to find a dozen bubbles had landed in the sink, still unpopped.

"Super bubbles," I thought.

So I went to my room, read, surfed the web, made a call or two, and then went back to the kitchen for some chocolate. By now it had been well over an hour since my dish washing, and the beautiful, everlasting bubbles had vanished from my mind. But guess what?! YUP, there they were - bubbles, happy and as lively as ever.

There was no logical explanation they could still be in the sink. I mean, these bubbles came from C-Town soap, not Willy Wonka. So I slowly put my finger on top of one and then quickly retreated. It stung me, almost cut the tip of my finger. And then I leaned down at the bubbles, real real close, and finally realized what they were. Little circles of glass. The previous night I had broken a cup doing the dishes, and although I had thought I'd cleaned them all up, I must have missed a few (or a lot), because dozens of pieces remained, glazing the top of the sink.

I guess that's life for you. What you think is beautiful and delicate can actually slice your throat. So look close.

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