Klink, clank, clank, klink...
"What's all the noise in there." Mark screams from the bedroom.
"Just trying to find a decent spoon to eat my cereal with. Why the hell are there so many spoons in here anyway?"
I go through this every morning, the great spoon hunt. It's not like there are no spoons in the drawer, in fact it is jammed full of spoons. The problem is only two of them are suitable for eating with. We must have fifty of them in the drawer and forty eight of them have ragged, tongue and lip shredding edges on them
I spent fifty one years without a garbage disposal. My mom didn't have one in her sink, and when I escaped from the nest I never had a home with a garbage disposal either. That is until twelve years ago when Mark talked me into having one installed along with a dishwasher. The first two years we had that thing I was terrified of it. My worst fear was that I would drop something down there and as soon as I was wrist deep into the machine, trying to retrieve the thing I had dropped in there, Mark would walk over and flip the switch on the wall 'by accident'. I still don't feel all that comfortable sticking my hand down there. It has been useful a couple of times as a means to dispose of some of those giant, two inch long cockroaches we have down here. They often are in the sink when I turn on the lights, and apparently the gaping hole at the bottom of the sink looks like a good escape route for them. So getting back on the subject of those spoons, there is another sound in the kitchen that I can recognize from the other side of the house.
Klackity, klackity, klackity, klackity.....
It's the sound of Mark dropping another spoon down the garbage disposal.