My carpal tunnel release for the left hand is scheduled for December 21st. As much as I’m not looking forward to taking that horrid needle in the wrist again, I’m hoping that once I’m the proud owner of two repaired hands I’ll stop doing clumsy things like I did this morning.

My meal before aquasize, which my friend and I refer to as “bobbin’ with the oldies,” was a small bowl of leftover spaghetti with meat sauce. It’s the breakfast of champions, my friends. Well, in all fairness it was not the breakfast of champions today unless you would like to crown me the champion of breaking stuff, but let’s move on here.

At some point as I struggled to pull my meal out of the microwave with my partly numb morning hands, I guess I must have caught the bottom of the bowl on the edge of the big glass platter that spins around in the bottom of my microwave. I saved the Fiestaware, but the turntable slid out of the microwave, glanced off the bowl of my stand mixer, and broke into numerous very sad pieces on the countertop.

Most people’s first instinct would have been to grab a broom, or a vacuum, but mine was to grab my camera. As much as I used a few choice words I won’t share here, my reaction after I realized there was no fixing this boo-boo was to say, “Meh. At least I can put this on the blog.” A person can’t make up the kind of ridiculous events that season my life. Lately, my life has been spicy with this kind of garbage.

Where I do buy a new turntable for my microwave? Does such a thing exist? It’s getting a little late to ask Santa for a new nuker.

All the debris on my counter is right where it was when disaster struck. I didn’t alter the setting at all before taking these crime scene photos. I’m glad I cleaned up last night so it wouldn’t be too humiliating, but there is still plenty of random stuff to share with the internet. Yes, there are two kinds of wee tomatoes, an almost empty Tic Tac box, and I rollerball of Couture Couture perfume by Juicy Couture. That pink spiny thing is a stress relieving squeezy dealie, and there’s a gold-wrapped package of cheddar cracker sticks. The novel The Carousel Painter took the worst of the impact, I think. Out of the four books I picked by choosing interesting titles at the library last week, I accidentally chose two Christian women’s fiction novels, which are really not my kind of reading, but I read the first and I’ll probably read The Carousel Painter as well if it is worth investing my time. It had the unfortunate position of being left directly under the microwave shelf this morning. Sorry, Judith Miller. Nothing personal.

So, here I am, blogging about the clumsy ridiculousness that is my life. I suppose I would maintain by super cool blogger persona more effectively if I didn’t share this kind of stuff, but I am all about sharing the reality of my life here at Blue Speckled Pup. One of these days I’ll do something awesome, but in the meantime, please use my Sunday morning destruction to make yourself feel better about your own life.

You’re welcome.

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