In Which I Break Something

My kitchen has it in for me. Yesterday, my blender stopped working just after I prepared the ingredients to make Giada DeLaurentis' delicious, yummy Mint Cantaloupe Granitas. I've got a blender full of cubed cantaloupe doused with simple syrup which had been simmered with fresh mint leaves, just TAUNTING me in the fridge. I've got to blend it, then freeze it, before I can enjoy it on these nice hot summer days we're having down here. Alas, my blender is no more. It is an ex-blender, has joined the bleedin' choir invisible, and is pinin' for the Fjords. (I pity those of you who are not Monty Python fans and have no idea to what I am referring.)

Now today, as I am washing my dishes, I dropped a wine glass on the floor. It shattered into a zillion pieces. I began to weep. After I recovered my senses, I sweep up the visible bits, then fetch the vacuum cleaner to suck up the tiny little bits that I can't see but would inevitably make their homes inside innocent bare feet.

My vacuum is old and very, very, tired. It can't handle anything much larger than a crumb, or anything that is not soft, like dust or hair. It sucked up those shards, felt the sharp edges, and spat them back out at me. At my ankles. Leaving behind a trail of even smaller glass shards.

After I stopped cursing uttering expressions of disdain, I knew just what would come to the rescue. My Swiffer. (And no. Swiffer has not sponsored this blog post. However, if they would like to send me free stuff for sharing this story, I'll be happy to entertain such offers.)

So. Broken wine glass. Shards everywhere. Swiffer saves the day. Moral of the story?

Stop drinking wine. Stop washing the dishes.