Little Tommy: Mom, you know that really expensive sculpture you have, that you’re always worried I’m going to break?
Mom: Yes…
Little Tommy: Your worries are over.
Mr. Rilch and I are both popaholics. He won’t drink anything but Diet Pepsi. I prefer Pepsi One, but I’ll drink anything as long as it’s diet, dark, and not Diet Coke. (Please don’t say it. This is not the Pit or IMHO. Or GD.) We’re always careful, at least I thought I was, when walking with a full glass. I always hold my hand holding the glass up high, I watch my step, and I walk slowly so as not to spill.
But I didn’t think about making sure my elbow didn’t bang against the bookcase at the foot of the stairs. It was like the Titanic: it happened as it did because I never thought it would happen at all. BAM! Glass flies out of my hand, droplets appear on the wall from three feet up all the way to the floor, a puddle of Safeway Select Diet Cola seeps into the carpet, and the glass rolls to a stop at my feet.
Well, now I know what happens when I drop a full glass. I feel as if some tension has been relieved. Sometimes there’s a difference between being cautious because you don’t know exactly what will happen, and being cautious because you do know. And I never thought of that bookshelf as a menace until now, but from now on, I’ll be sure to avoid it.
Amazingly, I missed the papers on the stairway entirely, except for a few drops on the folder: nothing’s permanently damaged. The wall and the carpet cleaned up okay, and the glass didn’t break. And of course, my worries are over.