Let me explain.
So, there I am looking down at the broken dish and Mrs P arrives in the kitchen. Her look suggests she is unimpressed.
Long story short, I get a quick science lesson as to why cold water should not be poured on to hot glass and then I’m “casually” informed she has had the dish for years. It’s not quite a family heirloom, you understand, but it’s pretty close.
Having been subjected to the occasional guilt trip (or should that be trap?) on previous occasions, I know the drill. Consequently, I suggest she venture to Briscoes or Farmers to purchase a replacement.
Obviously, she must do this immediately or the sky will fall in or the sale will end. Whichever comes first.
So, Mrs P races off into town, her heart presumably racing at the thought of a husband-sanctioned visit to her favourite stores.
Now that’s the first part of the story. A little preamble if you will. The second part is a bit of an explanation of why the dish got broken in the first place.
It’s all to do with the start of spring.
Like many people, I’m sure, we have begun our annual spring clean/declutter. On the day the dish was broken, I had been sorting one room and Mrs P another.
Always thinking ahead, she had stuck some sausage rolls in the dish and had been heating them up for lunch as we worked. I’d finished my room and had been designated the task of removing the hot dish from the oven.
The rest, as you now know, is history.
This year’s clean-out has been given some added impetus by our decision to move on from our current home. As yet we are unsure where we are going or exactly when.
You may recall, a while ago I announced we would be going in with the Boomerang Child and her fella on a lifestyle block somewhere.
Various target dates for the shift have come and gone over the last few years as the intricacies of working it all out within the family dynamic have reared their heads.
For example, mortgage rates have gone up for the kids; babies have arrived; Mrs P’s health woes have been a bit up and down; and I’ve pulled out my last remaining two hairs in frustration.
If you’ve been involved in anything similar with your own family I’m sure you’ll know what I mean.
Now, the kids have decided to resolve the treading water stage by selling up, buying a bus and exploring the country to see what lifestyle blocks are on offer.
This has left Mrs P and I in a bit of a limbo so we’ve decided to radically declutter and get ourselves in a position to jump quickly - by which I mean stump up with the cash - if the kids find something we all like.
If you’ve ever done a wholesale declutter or downsize before, you’ll know it’s actually quite easy. You just get rid of everything apart from the clothes you stand up in, a spare pair of undies and a bank account that allows you to buy a whole load of replacement stuff down the track.
Simple. Unless of course you are married to someone who is sentimental, likes “stuff”, struggles to get rid of anything at all and has a son of similar, if not more hoarder-like, disposition.
What “we” do - and it was by no means a unanimous agreement if you get my drift - is basically put everything “we” should get rid of into the garage while “we” think about it.
If “we” decide it has to go, we then contact No 1 Son and ask him if he wants any of it. Surprise, surprise. He does want it.
Equally unsurprisingly, he asks if we can store it for him until he returns from his upcoming overseas sojourn. Naturally “we” agree. And so the cycle continues.
I was standing there looking at my chocka garage, wondering what had happened, when Mrs P returned from town with a broad smile on her lovely face.
Excitedly she told me she’d managed to find a replacement dish. What’s more, there had been a two-for-one deal so she’d got a second dish too.
I closed the garage door, breathed a heavy sigh and trudged inside for a debrief.
To wrap up the whole broken dish, spring clean, decluttering tale, our efforts had resulted in us getting rid of nothing, a full garage I can no longer park my car in and a net gain to the household of one extra glass dish.
As I said earlier, stunned and bewildered pretty much covers it.
