Dangerous breakfast.

The hazards of a simple petit dejeuner.

I was sitting peacefully at my little kitchen table, drinking coffee, working on my task list for the week, and waiting for my toast, when the smoke alarm on the wall above my head (which apparently hates and fears toast) went off. I jumped up to climb on my chair and turn it off; that is, I tried to jump up, instead becoming entangled in the limbs of chair and table and bringing all, and myself, crashing to the floor. In one gesture I managed to sweep clear my bulletin board, to soak my notebook in coffee, and to break the table, my favorite Snork Maiden cup given to me by my late friend Nicole, and my glasses. And apparently I bruised my elbow along the way.

By the time I got to my feet, the alarm had stopped.

It was certainly time to get new glasses, and Ikea probably still has the little tables, but breaking the cup is irremediable.


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