A day of domestic disasters

Diner tonight: lamb meatballs from the freezer, with an

impromptu tzatziki sauce, and fresh 

beets and greens with butter and lemon

Only thing that went right all day

Ever have a day when everything seems to go wrong? Nothing big, just little stuff. Today was such a day for me.

It started with wrapping Christmas gifts. I targeted four large, heavy gifts that would be my goal for the day. Too big for bags, each required wrapping the old-fashioned way.  I thought it would be a relief to get them done, but whatever could go wrong did. I dropped the scissors or Scotch tape repeatedly--bending down to get them from a seated walker is sometimes an iffy experience. I had to cut the paper on the coffee table, the only surface I have that is large enough, except maybe my kitchen cutting board, and I was afraid that would get the paper greasy. But the paper, too long wrapped around a cardboard tube, had a life of its own and rolled up and fought back as I tried to cut it. The result was uneven jagged edges—not pretty on a wrapped package. For at least one package, I cut the paper and then realized I had not measured correctly--a wasted piece of paper unless I find small packages that need to be wrapped.

Bending over the coffee table from my Rollator made my back ache, so when I got the paper cut, wrapped around the package and secured, I moved it to my desk where I can work more comfortably. Except the one breakable package slipped out of its wrappings and crashed onto the floor—I didn’t hear the tinkling of something broken, so I just went ahead and rewrapped it. We’ll see on Christmas morning if it’s intact.

Inevitably the scissors and tape would be on the coffee table when I needed them on the desk, and vice versa. It took me an extraordinarily long time to wrap four gifts. Then I decided I would wrap a fifth one—lightweight but an odd shape, as tall as it is wide. My best effort, after three or four tries, was a mess. I gave up and put it aside for Jordan.

Tonight I wanted to bake brownies for Jacob, so I asked for an eight- or nine-inch square pan from the kitchen. Jacob arrived with an oblong glass pan, and when I laughed and said, “That’s not a square pan,” he replied, “You don’t have to be mean about it.” Made me feel guilty but didn’t stop me from asking if he’s taken geometry yet. The answer was a mumbled “No.” He didn’t get my joke. I guess thirteen-year-olds are not tuned to grandparents’ humor. Eventually he came back with a nine-inch pan, and I mixed the batter.

Here’s where I’ll whine about aging. I have no strength in my left hand, the hand with a slight tremor. So when I held the mixing bowl in that hand and tried to scrape batter into the baking pan with my right hand, I dropped the mixing bowl into the baking pan, getting a good schmear of batter on the outside of the bowl. With patience and small steps I finally got most of the batter into the baking pan, but it was a chore. The reward was that the brownies are delicious—I’ve had two and had to restrain myself from having a third. I told Jordan she better come get some for Jacob before I eat them all, but she’s gone gallivanting with neighbors and Jacob is at a buddy’s house. Brownies are all mine.

In between my domestic disasters, I finished a mystery I was deep into, had a nap, and fixed myself a good dinner. The day was by no means a loss, but I’ll be grateful if my world goes better tomorrow. Christmas can really be exhausting, but hey! You all know that.