Fodder for a Six Sentence Story can be found every or anywhere, even in a 1 lb glass jar of Mt. Olive Bread & Butter Pickle Sandwich Stuffers 🙂
As I glance to the lower left tool bar of my laptop, 7:06 am smirking at me with a hint of snarky, I realize it’s all up to me or more precisely, my choice because you see, ordinarily at this time of the morning I am hurriedly, like a squirrel gathering nuts late into the fall, gathering the trappings I typically take to work, swearing under my breath I am NOT going to be late today, but that is not the case this day…
Tired, overtired, alarm dangerously, unwisely snoozed at 5:00 am for another 30 minutes, I at long last, sleepily, slowly walked downstairs to the kitchen in such super slow-mo, I barely remembered the trip as my body greedily clung to the fog of sleep fully embracing the longstanding grievance of not having enough.
Coffee machine a go, I turned to my right, a useful automaton in motion, and moved a few feet towards the refrigerator to retrieve the makings of lunch – here, said my body, let’s squat down rather than bend over, easier to pull things from the bottom shelf so, arms and legs cued, I reached in for sliced provolone cheese, mayonnaise and….the recently purchased 1lb glass jar of my favorite pickles.
While in this semi squatting position, mayonnaise coaxed from the back of the shelf and cradled, pickle jar retrieved and holding steady, I leaned in for the package of cheese on the far right side of the ‘fridge; the glass pickle jar seemingly could no longer resist the pull of gravity dropping to the floor (with no apparent attempt on my part to catch it) splat, shatter – the pickles (who’d conspired from the very beginning) clung to each other, the pungent placental fluid with tiny seasoning seed pods within which the pickles were protected, lay everywhere advancing like an invading army across the kitchen’s tiled floor.
And so the cleanup began while my morning go-go juice taunted me from the safety of its glass carafe; on hands and knees, I caught myself sliding into the slick pit of can’t believe that just happened, going to be damned late, it’s majorly pouring down rain outside, blah, blah, blah until, as almost all errant shards and slivers of glass were wiped up, I experienced a moment of thanks – wasn’t I fortunate to live under roof in a warm house that I might experience a mishap such as this.
As the time mocks me at 7:21 am when I should already be at work, I sit with laptop writing this Six, a monsoon of a storm raging outside the window of the warm place where I live and I smile.