Although I try not to dwell on it, there is a bit of stress created by this whole process of moving– the little stresses of not being able to find some favorite book or piece of jewelry because its packed in a box and the bigger stresses of anticipating that feeling a little like you are in a fish bowl on moving day. Yesterday surrounded by the boxes at my parents’ new parsonage and with thoughts on our own approaching moving day, I had a mini breakdown in the middle of the kitchen. Thankfully my mother and my husband were both around and were quick to give the strong supportive hugs I needed to reassure me there is a light at the end of the tunnel. [smile]
After the tears were wiped away, I began to tackle the task of deep cleaning the fridge. Don’t get the wrong idea. This parsonage is pretty fantastic as parsonages go. It is certainly the most spacious house my parents have ever lived in and the newest build! It is also fairly clean, but my mother and I are meticulous housekeepers and wanted to clean the fridge to our standards before completely settling all of our food into the space. [smile] It took a little more than half an hour but afterwords it was sparkling! Sadly it didn’t stay that way for very long and thus begins the story of “The Great Butter Incident of 2013”!
Date: June 17, 2013
Time: Approximately 9:30 p.m.
Location: Bill and Sue’s Kitchen
Situation: Post-dinner clean-up
We had just finished our first almost full-family dinner (we were missing my little sister Rachel) around the nice round kitchen table in the “breakfast nook” of the new kitchen. It was so nice to all be gathered there in a familiar way and began the process of making this house feel more like our home. [smile] We were all helping to clear the table and load the dishwasher. I was standing in between the end of the counter and the fridge. We were nearing the end of the clean-up. The dishwasher was full and the table was wiped off. An unsuspecting tub of butter had made its way from the table to the counter and having been wiped clean was waiting to be put back in a top cubby of the refrigerator.
Looking back the witnesses all said that just before the incident it seemed as if time had slowed. The door to the refrigerator was open and as I slowly reached for the tub of butter, Bill was at the sink; Caleb was cleaning the table; and Sue was at the oven. Somehow in the process of conveying the tub of butter to the small shelf in the door of the refrigerator it slipped out of my hands. The top popped off and the softened butter splattered all over me, the open fridge, and the kitchen floor. Splattered butter was found on the back of Bill’s pants and the dishwasher. Sue swears that the butter shot all the way up to the ceiling. [smile] I immediately froze in place as everyone turned to assess the situation.
It didn’t take more than a minute for the “butter finger” jokes to start rolling in. I was renamed “Margaret Butterfingers Bagwell”– Caleb thought my maiden name sounded better with the new nickname. [smile] My favorite joke of the evening courtesy of my loving husband:
“Next time somebody drops something I’m going to say: ‘I can’t believe it’s not Margaret!'”
When your whole family is laughing about you, all you can really do is laugh along! [smile] Combined with the stress of our impending move, this could have easily led to more tears, but I’ve decided “The Great Butter Incident of 2013” will be the first of many great family memories in this new house and if my clumsiness was the cause then so be it! In the grand scheme of things a little or a lot of butter splattered around a kitchen is pretty minor. [smile]