When You Least Expect It

gremlin-glazen-pot-500x500toddler-and-dog

When you Least Expect it.

A catastrophe is an unplanned series of destructive events. Happens only when you least expect it. No one knows when it will hit. Personally, I blame it on gremlins. I call mine Damnit. Symbolically, I keep him secured in a glass jar high on a book shelf where clumsy humans and pets can’t reach. But that doesn’t guarantee anything. You see, the day started out peaceful and calm and then all hell broke loose. I was sitting with my feet up, reading a steamy romance novel, a virgin Tequila Sunrise in easy reach. I had just finished doing a killer of a clean-up job on the house, the fresh scent of Pinesol and sparkling surfaces throughout making me feel powerful like the Queen of all things domestic. Our toddler, DD aka Dirty Diaper, smelled fresh at the moment and sat giggling and playing on the mat with Ohno, our overweight golden retriever whose fat belly wagged almost as vigorously as his tail, anticipating the thrill when DD would throw his ball. Relaxed and content I could see from the sparkling clean window of the family room, my hubby out in the back yard, perched on a ladder, steadily engaged with brush in hand and bucket dangling from a step ladder as he reached to paint the high eaves of the garden shed. I should have known better than to allow such tranquility. It was like I had sent an invitation. There was no warning. The glass jar started to rattle just as DD let it fly.

“Ohno,” My voice shrieked like a banshee as our clumsy 150 pound canine reverberated against the bookshelf, the glass receptacle falling to the carpeted floor knocking off the lid, the hissing wind of disaster rushing out of its confinement. Ohno sensing the momentum of the mischievous but invisible creature bound after it to the kitchen. “Damnit!” I cried. My prize philodendron exploded to the tiled floor scattering soil and pottery shards as far as the eye could see. “Ohno, Damit,” I pleaded as the frenzied chase continued, the pie on the counter and stew on the stove also being swept into vortex.

My husband, hearing the commotion came in through the patio door, his intrusion breaking the spell, a look of “what the hell’ on his face. Shock – sheer shock! We shook our heads.

“Damnit?” he said.

“Damnit,” I nodded in the affirmative.

“Ohno,” he lamented.

“Had a lot to do with it,” I said as I retreated to fetch a broom.

Marianne Scott

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