January 14th, 2025

This is what we are left with out of a dish set that was either six or eight place settings.  It was purchased so long ago, I honestly do not remember. I do know that it was very inexpensive.   At the end of my first marriage, when I started over with nothing except me and the kids, I was always looking for a really good deal to set up our new home.  This set of dishes, which I found at a store called Caldor (similar to a Walmart) certainly qualified.   I do not remember what the price tag was, but I know it was cheap.  I found them on an endcap.  I believe it was the last box, they were on sale and while they are probably the most boring dishes every created on the planet, I did not care.  They could have been pink with orange dots and I still would have bought them.

But that was thirty something years ago (please don't make me do the math  - I think it was 35) so I suppose it's not surprising that there are a few chips, some discoloration here and there and a few less dishes than we started out with.   All right, to be fair, it's more than a few less dishes.  We are down to 2 bowls, 4 small plates and 5 large ones.   And I am the one responsible.  

I don't mean "I" as in I declare myself responsible in a kindly intended way of accepting responsibility for what my children may have done.  Mostly because they absolutely did not do it.  I mean "I" because literally I am the one who broke every dang dish that is no longer in this set.

And recently in less than 24 hours, I broke two more.  Dang it all.  

One broke very cleanly in two separate pieces as if it were two perfect puzzle pieces  that were supposed to do that.  It was a bowl. And all I did was take it out of the cupboard and put it on the counter. Seriously, that's all I did.  I didn't slam it on the counter, I didn't throw it on the counter, I didn't even set it heavily on the counter with force.  I merely, opened the door, removed the bowl and gently set it on the counter whereupon I watched as it broke into two even pieces.  One side fell to the left, one side fell to the right as I watched. What the actual hell was that about?  And now we are down to two bowls.

The other dish I broke in far more spectacular fashion.  I was putting dishes away rather than taking them out to begin with.  I had two small plates, one in each hand,  I put the dish in  my left hand on top of the stack first, then went to put the dish in my right hand on the stack and, and, well I don't actually know what happened.  First it was in my hand and then it wasn't. I suppose I dropped it, but I don't remember dropping it.  Just in my hand and then not in my hand.

The plate, again a very small plate only 7 inches across, hit the tile and exploded with a sound that, in a cowboy movie would have caused at least half the town residents to have expired violently.  Tim immediately called out from the other room, "Are you ok?"  'Yes" I answered with a  bit of a snarl, "I'm fine". And then I muttered under my breath, "the dish, not so much".  I was just so annoyed with myself. But I had to set that aside because the kitties were showing great interest and that isn't a good combo.

I'm not sure what it is about crockery or glass, but when it breaks usually, there were bits and pieces far beyond where logic dictates.  I begin to understand why aliens build their space craft in the shape of saucers.  Apparently, it is the most aerodynamic shape possible.  I found bits of that dish not just in the immediate area, but in places that make no sense whatsoever.

There were so very many pieces and in so many different shapes and sizes that it began to seem as though, if I were to painstakingly reconstruct that dish from those bits, the dish would end up much larger than it originally was.  Which is, of course, impossible.

I started, as one does, with the biggest pieces, then the smaller ones that were in my immediate vicinity. One disposed of, I got a broom and began sweeping the area. Over and over I swept the exact same area and with each go ' round, picked up more teensy shards. Then I got a spray bottle of cleaner and some paper towels to be certain I got every little bitty crumb.  Eventually it seemed as if I had gotten it all.  HAH!  

As soon as I put away the spray cleaner and broom, I saw more small pieces under the kitchen table. Sigh.  I got everything back out and cleaned some more.  Then I spied a few tiny bits near the kittyboys food and water dishes.  Ratz.  Fearing that eensy microbits of ceramics may have jumped into their dishes, I dumped them, washed, dried and refilled them.  And while I was at it, completely swept and washed that general area. I did not want them to accidentally ingest any of it. That would be very bad.  But finally, I thought, finally it's done. I put away the broom and the cleaning stuff.  Surely, this time, I was truly done.  Silly me.

As I walked away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a doggone piece of broken dish in the front hall.  How?  How?  I hauled all of the cleaning paraphernalia  back out and cleaned more.  I swept, I sprayed, I washed, I wiped.  Once finished, I stood, hands on hips and surveyed the area.  First by the sink where I initially bobbled the dish, then the area around the table, next the kitty food area, and lastly the front hall.  At last, "Finished". I said to myself out loud, feeling quite accomplished.  Hilarious.

I put everything away once more and then walked to the bathroom where I found yet more pieces!  ARGH!  Is there a wormhole in my kitchen somewhere that scoots things into other places in the house?  How does a dish dropped in the kitchen by the sink end up with pieces around corners?  It's a small house but it's not THAT small. The bathroom and the entry are in two completely different hallways!

Well of course I cleaned it up. But this time before I put things away, I prowled through the entire house starring at the floor looking for evidence of yet more breakage.  It took two rounds of peering intensely at the floor as I slowly walked through before I was satisfied that I had, most likely, gotten all of it.  And even so warned Tim went he walked in barefoot as always, to be careful.

And as far as the rapidly diminishing number of bowls and plates in the house,  right now, we'll just keep living with it. As long as there are dishes enough for us, we are good.  And when there aren't enough?  Well I suppose at that point we will have to actually do something about it.  and I promise you, that when the day finally does come that the dishes are replaced, I will be looking for something less breakable.  Perhaps something made of steel?  Concrete?  Plastic? Paper? I understand that diamonds are very sturdy.....