No, I didn't take a picture

There are many life experiences that are natural blogging events. And some unnatural events that are great blog topics. Like this post, for instance. Did you read that one? You should. It's a glimpse into my world.

Now that you've had a chance to shake your head about that (or laugh your head off), here's my next story. It's kind of like the sauce post, only this time I was trying to eat supper.

Why a (clumsy) mom never eats supper while it's warm:

Supper was ready; my husband had grilled some wonderful smelling meat. The children were at the table, everything was ready. Except, wait, no one grabbed the milk. I went to get it and made it only part of the way back to the table before the jug slipped out of my hand. Did I mention the jug was pretty much full, only recently opened at lunch?

Back to the story: the jug slipped out of my hand and exploded as it hit the floor. Seriously, I don't think exploded is an exaggeration. If you've been in my house, think about where my kitchen sink is and the distance the refrigerator and oven are from the sink. I dropped the jug by the sink...and the oven and fridge had milk all over them. And the cupboards. And the countertop. And the microwave. And the floor. Oh, the floor. There is a lot of milk in a gallon jug. Curiously, I don't think any of it hit me. Very odd.

I grabbed the kitchen towel and a wash cloth to try and soak up the puddle...that didn't even cut it. Jason came to the rescue with a wad of rags. Still didn't soak up everything. I had to use bath towels. I needed to do that load of laundry anyway.

I wiped everything up and sat down to dinner. It was still mostly warm. Well, sort of. It still tasted and smelled good. My husband kindly mopped the floor after dinner. He also started a load of laundry so the house didn't smell like spoiled milk.

No, I didn't take any pictures. The visual I have in my head is all the memory I need. I think I'll carry the milk with two hands next time.