It’s always something

 

This morning  I was washing up a few dishes, but when I stepped away from the sink, I realized I was standing in wet socks in a puddle of water. Foot neuropathy is why I didn’t realize my feet were wet, but that was the least of my problems. There was standing water on my hardwood floor and water dripping from the cabinet under the sink, where everything was wet. I got lots of bath towels, soaked up what I could, and called for help. There was no way I could get on hands and knees and drag all that wet stuff out. Christian, as usual, was sweet about it, mopping up towels, moving racks of things and boxes—you’d be amazed at how much I can cram under a sink.  Finally, it was all cleaned up, the cabinet just damp but we left the doors open for air. At suppertime, Christian replaced the things that were sitting outside drying. I marked my calendar for first thing tomorrow morning to call the plumber.

It was the spray nozzle, which was leaking back down the cord into the cabinet. The nozzle is a Delta product, which is supposed to be good, but this is the third time I have had this problem. Delta must have recognized the problem, because it has given up free replacement and now charges—last time it was $10, but with inflation who knows? I am less concerned with cost than I am with inconvenience. Trying to use the sink while keeping the sprayer down in the sink is inconvenient at best and offers a free shower at the worst. I soldiered through fixing a pot of soup for supper. But then, would you believe it, I lost all common sense, forgot about it, washed the soup bowls, and flooded the cabinet again. It’s late evening, and I didn’t dare call Christian again, so I got the one remaining bath towel, sopped it all up with my feet—a mobility handicap is teaching me to have ambidextrous feet—and looped the towel onto the cabinet so it would, I hoped, stop dripping onto the floor. Tomorrow, the wonderful Zenaida will be here and I’ll ask her to deal with the mess. Makes me feel bad, because the whole reason I did the dishes—after Jordan and Christian decided to rinse and leave for Zenaida, was that I have several extra-duty chores on her list for tomorrow. Oh well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate good intentions.

Most of today was spent going to livestream church—I went to the Ten:10 alternative service out of curiosity. It’s informal, casual, and yet very welcoming. I could see that people were milling around, greeting each other. There was a baby dedication, much like the ones at the traditional service, and a word from a new outreach minister--but his mic was either not on or so low I couldn’t hear it, even with my hearing aids turned up. I am looking forward to getting to know him, especially because I hear he once trained as a chef. Yes, I’m not too proud to live vicariously through the experience of others. The Ten:10 has a remarkable young woman who plays guitar and sings with more gusto than I am used to in church. She is a force for good, and I may go back again just to hear her. But I admit, for a traditionalist like me, the service lacked something, so I tuned in to the first part of the traditional service at eleven. I am well churched today.

Jordan did a lot of grocery planning for Christmas—several days with lots of hungry teenagers—and the only other thing I did today was to make a pot of chicken/wild rice soup. So good. All the family liked it, which is a good thing because I think they’ll get it again tomorrow night, perhaps with a salad. This was a new recipe for me, and I followed it carefully because I haven’t cooked much with wild rice. But as part of my ongoing effort to eat out of the freezer, it did clear out a one lb. package of skinless, boneless chicken thighs—and it was pretty good.

A generally good reflective Sunday. But watch out, world, at least those of us who celebrate Christmas. It’s about to get frantic time! And that’s all part of the fun. For me, it has to balance with a deep recognition of what we celebrate. Merry Christmas.