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glass

apparently we don't know our own strength.

this morning i was cleaning the bottom shelf of the refrigerator in the sink while paul watched tv in the living room. the plastic drawers were already drying on towels on the counters. hands in yellow rubber gloves, hot water cascading over the shelf, i slowly pried the glass away from the frame. as the glass touched the sink, there was a tremendous crash and glass (safety glass, of course) went everywhere. my hands were still in the same position. i blinked, stunned. the obvious thing to do would be to swear really loudly, but there are no doors separating the living room from the kitchen. instead i turned off the water and stood there for a while, listening numbly to the strange cracking-ice-like sounds coming from the sink full of glass and water. the next step was to find the manual for the refrigerator, look for the model number, then hit the phone book for appliance part shops. a chance glance at a sears ad had me running for my computer. sears.com had the part for what i thought was a reasonable price, but i feared the shipping costs. local sears stores (searses?) didn't have the part in stock. i googled a bit and found another place that not only sold the part, but sold it for half of the sears price -- as a result, i was able to get the replacement glass and 2-3 day shipping for cheaper than the item alone from sears. once the embarrassing cya-shopping was done, i returned to the kitchen to clean up.

later in the day, we were all hanging out in the living room while eating our dinner. cam was trying to catch a fly. paul protested the fact of an open window and proceeded to smack the window hard. the loud sound i heard i thought was just the window frame hitting the sill (i have no idea what the technical names for these things might be), but cam's horrified face made me realize that the child had broken the window. thank god for laminated glass. paul burst into tears. once we determined that he wasn't hurt, we were just astonished that he could have hit a window hard enough to break it. i really thought i had a few years before the window-breaking of boyhood began, and i most definitely thought it would be stray balls, not wee bare hands. jesu cristo.

if i hear another crash later today, i'm just going to bed.

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