It started with a pink ceramic piggy bank that was dropped on the freshly-mopped kitchen floor. It shattered into bits.
And then, by bedtime, we realized our upstairs heat pump was not working. Joe checked the units. The breakers. To no avail. (Thankfully our downstairs oil furnace is powerful and compensated for the lack of heat upstairs. And we were most grateful that it was only the motherboard that needed to be replaced. And that it only cost $354 to repair. Seriously. We were happy that it only cost $354 to repair. It pales in comparison to the last repair bill, which was almost ten times that price.)
And then, the same night even (as Joe was flipping breakers throughout our house), I smashed my middle finger in a dresser drawer. I fell on my bed and held my breath until the pain subsided. It's not broken, but man is it ever sore.
And then I attempted to put leftovers in the microwave for lunch the next day. With only one second left, we heard an explosion. When we looked in, this is what we saw:
One of my most favorite Pyrex pieces. Shattered into smithereens.
Of course the "what-if's" are driving me crazy. What if I hadn't put it in for so long. What if I pulled it out of the microwave and it exploded all over me and the children. What if the door of the microwave blew open during the explosion and shot hot food and glass shards all over us.
We're very lucky indeed. And, I'm a little sad for the loss of my blue snowflake dish, but so very grateful no one was injured and the mess was fully contained to my microwave.
And, of course the afternoon ended with a mug of pens and pencils being knocked to the hardwood floor and breaking.