I laid in bed yesterday morning, drifting in and out of sleep. I had my alarm set for an hour and a half before I had to leave the house. Plenty of time for a lazy morning. I planned on taking a nice long shower, eating a leisurely breakfast, and check my email. Ah, what a nice morning it was going to be.
Until I heard a crash from downstairs.
I startled, and then was immediately worried. Was someone in the house? It was definitely the sound of something being knocked over. I crawled out of bed, my head still fuzzy, and went down the stairs. I stopped halfway to listen. I heard a sound, but it was not the sound of someone, but something. The sound of something dripping to be exact, which is never a good sign.
I got to the bottom of the stairs and started for the laundry room first, because we have had a leak in there before. The sound got softer, so I turned around and headed to the kitchen instead. I was still in a very tired stupor, so it took me a little bit to figure out what was going on. There were boxes of cereal all over a wet and sticky floor. The dripping? Oh there it is, coming from the. . .cabinet? What the heck is that all over the wall? Looks like. . .pineapple?
Then a memory popped into my head. Apparently the rest of my brain was tired of waiting on me to figure it out, so it shoved the memory to the front. The memory of my husband buying a giant can of fruit about a year ago for some unknown reason. A can that was 6 lb.s 10 oz. of fruit to be exact. 6 lbs. 10 oz. that was now all over the kitchen.
Yeah, the can of fruit exploded. So hard that it had knocked things out of the cabinet and sprayed fruit and juice everywhere. So instead of my leisurely morning, instead I got to clean like a madwoman for an hour and then rush to get ready and out the door. I didn't even get to eat breakfast. And hush any of you that were about to mention the fruit that was conveniently everywhere.
If I never see fruit cocktail again it will be too soon.