August 13

  I just broke another of WPR's dishes.

 How am I allowed to walk around on my own? I clearly need some sort of keeper.

 While the first one was purely accidental and could've happened to anybody, this incident is is solely a result of my own stupidity. I had heated something up in the microwave and used a glass bowl since, as previously mentioned, the fancy pants ceramic bowls can't go in there. When I took it out, it was hella hot and I could see some of the pasta sauce starting to get baked on. Oh my, I thought in my culinary naivety. I'd better soak that immediately to ensure easy cleaning!


  Stupid.

  I put it in the sink and turn the faucet on it. The water wasn't cold, but turns out it didn't have to be. I heard a tiny pop and had just enough time to look down at the still intact bowl and think Huh... before it suddenly and anticlimactically split into three pieces. I don't mean it shattered or even cracked dramatically -- just one minute, it was whole, and the next, it was lying in jagged pieces while the faucet ran blithely on. It was like a cartoon.

  Undoubtedly anyone I tell this story to will be shocked that I did not see it coming. To them I say (preemptively): I'm not a freakin' chemist. And fourth grade, which was the last time I heard anything about molecules and states of matter, was several lifetimes ago. But apparently life is full of just such things that you are expected to know. Sometimes I feel like the only first timer in a world full of reincarnated Newtons. Thank god for wikihow.

  Anyway.

  After I comprehended what had happened and looked around for the hidden cameras that were surely broadcasting my incredulous expression to millions of viewers nationwide, disposal was the next order of business. I'm not going to Kisco til Monday, so last week's plan was out. In desperation I stashed the broken glass inside an empty ice cream carton, which I'm going to throw out in a street trash can at the earliest available opportunity. Maybe I can make it more secure, but maybe not: I hate to think of city workers getting cut while emptying the trash, but if anyone sees me lobbing a taped up box into a public trash can  in NY they're liable to send in the bomb squad.

  That's today's "adventure". WPR came back briefly, and I do mean briefly, between his international flight and driving up to see what is apparently his steady girlfriend. If someone wanted to see me after roughly a day of travel, not to mention a hellish time change, they'd be waiting at least three days. WPR drops his stuff, takes a shower, and bolts out the door with gifts in under 45 minutes. What a guy. So I've got the apartment to myself, although surely not for long once he realizes I'm destroying it. Might should go down to Our Lady of Wal-mart to see about some bowls...