I broke a glass Thursday morning. This is the first time I’ve ever lived in a house with tile in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure that this glass would have bounced on vinyl flooring, but it shattered into a million pieces this morning on the tile. I just stood there, barefoot, looking at the glass all around me. The noise was so loud that it woke up Mike. My egg was cooking on the stove behind me and my toast was toasting in the toaster in front of me. I felt trapped in a minefield of glass.

I think it was because I was sleepy that I felt trapped. I had only awoken maybe five minutes before. I staggered out of bed, went to the kitchen for an egg and cracked it into the little pan.  I got a piece of bread, turned toward the toaster, and started the toast. While closing the toaster, my hand hit the glass on the counter and I stood helplessly while I watched it fall. For a split second, I truly expected it to bounce. It was only when it shattered that I remembered that we have tile in our kitchen.

Our dustpan has been MIA since the move, but since the advent of Swiffer, we haven’t missed it. I missed it this morning. Mike helped me sweep up the largest pieces using a box from the dinner he ate last night. After the initial sweeping, I used the vacuum to get those microscopic pieces that can lodge in my feet. I don’t think I got them all, so I still expect to be wounded in the future.

I told Mike that we are going to buy all new drinkware. I said that we should buy all plastic glasses next time. He said, “But then they won’t be glasses, they’ll be plastics.” I was so tired, I couldn’t even laugh.