Tragedy

I am sorry I haven't been blogging, but personal tragedy has reared it's ugly head and I was too sad to post about it until now. If it were much later in the year, this post might be named T is for Tea (but it's not, I know, I'm supposed to be doing D, and I will, I swear, but I have to cry about this first). I will save the particulars for that post, but I just wanted to let you know that I am something of a tea freak drinker.

So, imagine how I felt when I came home from the knitting guild meeting Tuesday evening and walked into the kitchen to get the scissors and found this:


In my horror, I screamed. And then, I turned, and my eyes fell on this:



I then screamed even louder. From the living room, my husband (who was home during the horrific incident) shouted, "The teapots had a fight!" To which I responded, "How could you let me just walk into the kitchen without telling me?!?!?!?"

What is responsible for this carnage, you ask? Well, in the words of my husband:

"I was rearranging things on the top of the refrigerator when the [small white teapot with cup] jumped off the fridge and attacked the other one. I tried to stop it, but I was too late."

Yes folks, it was a battle to the death. I had never realized that the white teapot harbored such ill-will towards the black teapot (which is actually a clay tea kettle). I feel like a bad teapot guardian, as though I might have prevented this terrible tragedy. If only I had paid more attention to the little white teapot and maybe gotten it into therapy, this horrible murder/potticide might have been avoided. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20 and I shouldn't blame myself, but I still feel slightly guilty.

Now, it is a measure of how much I like tea that there are three other teapots in the apartment (don't worry, I have instituted teapot counseling and am watching them closely as I know potticide can be something of an epidemic). But, the white teapot was the smallest one--just a two-cup pot, and came with it's own cup that it sat atop ("But the cup's okay," my husband assured me, "it's just that the handle was broken off"), and therefore perfect for brewing a little chamomille tea before bed. I can hold off finding a new one, and give myself time to grieve. But, the tea kettle, I can't go without that for very long (although my husband never did understand why I needed one when we had a microwave and could heat single cups of tea in there). Roommie says I should buy a ridiculously expensive one and dare hubby to comment on it, but I really loved that clay one, so I may get another just like it. (Btw, I'm saving the bamboo handle so I can knit a little bag and use that as the handle, thus memorializing the kettle--I haven't figured out what to do to memorialize the white one).

So, such is the state of affairs in our household. However, there was a ray of light recently. Here is a pic of Roommie just moments before he went out the door to get that thing on his arm removed (which he had suffered through having for several weeks due to having minor surgery on his arm):

P.S. It's a good thing I proofread my posts. I had composed this in html, and during the proofreading realized I had accidently switched the pic of Roommie with the 2nd murder/potticide pic. Go back and read the post imagining the two pix switched. That was the best giggle I had all day!