Just to clarify this is NOT a personal story but just what came to me today.
Part 1- Losing The Lonely Perfection
She opened the cabinets to give them one last check. Yes, tall items to the left, canned goods stacked neatly labels facing forward. Oh wait, small adjustment was needed, Mashed Potatoes before Minute Rice. Satisfied she said “There,” out loud to no one, “everything is perfect now”. Checking the casserole in the oven she set the timer, another fifteen minutes and it would be ready. She decided to grab a sprinkle of cheese to melt over the top as she delivered the crisp garden salad back to the ice box to chill. As she swung the fridge door open it banged against the wall and out flew a poorly placed cereal bowl of sloppy leftovers shattering to pieces on the pristine linoleum floor. For a moment time stopped. A slow motion spattering of brown goop speckled the light oak cabinets. Reaching out instinctively she bobbled the salad bowl in her hand spilling its freshly chopped contents and slicing the pad of her ring finger with a sliver of penetrating Corelle. A bloody trail of drips to the sink later, she turned while applying pressure to her wound with a wad of damp paper towels to assess the damage. The clock on the stove flashed and beeped as the timer for the casserole sounded jolting her from a stunned state. Ten minutes to six, panic and fear set in. As she ran to the hall closet for the broom and dustpan she fought back the tears. This was going to be a rough night.