I can’t even keep track of the number of dishes I’ve broken since living in this old, dishwasher-less house.

And this is NOTHING.

Recently I managed to take-out four or five wine glasses at the same time!!!!!

My friend was helping me hand-wash and dry a ton of dishes. I was just marveling at how sparkly and pretty the wine glasses looked after she had towel dried them and lined them up on the counter – I always leave them to air-dry – and a glass slipped out of my soapy hand, obliterating all of them.

I don’t even know exactly how many broke. It was just a sea of shards everywhere.

I stood there with my mouth wide open and I just had to laugh it off. I couldn’t believe her reaction either! She was the best possible friend to have had there at that moment  – because she Didn’t. Even. Flinch. She just asked where the dust-pan was.

And that was what I needed right then.  Because it couldn’t be changed – and I didn’t need any concerned looks to set off my guilt spiral.

Because it’s difficult to keep my thoughts from spinning out of control when I break a dish. About what a careless, clumsy, failure I am.

But I’ve learned to let it go as quickly as it happens. (Perhaps because it’s happened so often?)

It’s just a dish.

I’ve learned that even if it’s a sentimental dish – it’s *just* a dish.