The Balsamic Incident

That was a new unopened bottle of balsamic vinegar. I couldn’t bend fast enough to catch it (I tried, which of course made my back worse). I had no idea how to even BEGIN cleaning it up—I was right in the middle of making Owen’s breakfast and he was already in his high chair—and with my back, I could barely move.

Ugh.

I stepped out carefully, put shoes on, put shoes on Owen, threw some towels down to start sopping up the mess, and made Owen’s PB&J.

And let me just say that while the smell of a little bit of balsamic is nice, the smell of an entire bottle all over your kitchen floor is completely gag-inducing.

Ugh.

I popped a pain pill and got to work. Down on my hands and knees picking up glass pieces, sopping up the mess with towels and paper towels, using a squeegee to try and move the pools towards the towels and corral the teeny shards of glass that were all over (the grout was the worst, because the squeegee didn’t work on that and the glass liked to hide there). I hung the floor mats on the deck. I Swiffered the floor three times then realized I still needed to sop up more with paper towels. And then I realized the balsamic was also IN the pantry, so then I was on my hands and knees INSIDE the tiny pantry trying to clean. And trying to shove paper towels against the floorboards because it was behind there, too.

Ugh.

It took me a good 25 minutes to clean it all up, during which Owen finished his breakfast and just played with some toys that were on the table. I swear, he can be a rock star when he wants to be.

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