(Marcy, if you're reading this before I talk to you, brace yourself.)
Last spring when we were at Beacon and That Bitch was calling every regulatory agency to tattle on us, our housekeeper Lori decided to cast a spell to protect CC House. (Hmm, I wonder whether she should remove that now?) Although some of us were skeptical, we were all ready to try anything to protect our CC from any more liquor agents or other mayhem. Lori gathered us all in the dining room and said a few pretty simple words. We toasted (that's my kind of spell!) and that was it.
Fifteen minutes later the glass light cover over the back door fell off and exploded into approximately 19,000,000 pieces.
Now, what the hell. No one was going through the doorway; no major slamming of doors or equipment had recently taken place; and there were no tremors on the Richter scale. The randomness of the event spooked all of us. Maybe Lori's witchcraft just had us worked up, but it felt creepy. Like something was pissed off.
This evening I had my kids (the little ones) in the bath and was on the phone with Gabe, reading him the ferry schedule, when there was an unholy crashing and shattering sound in the house. The big, gorgeous Culinary Communion stained glass window (made for us by Gabe's mom, Marcy) had chosen that moment to slip off the hooks by which it's been hanging in our stairwell window for three or four weeks and fall--no, plummet splinteringly--down the stairs. The black metal frame is twisted, the glass is broken out all over, and it's pretty screwed up. Marcy drove that window up from California with no mishap; the lives of over 1000 bubble-wrap bubbles were sacrificed to protect it in the move from Beacon, which involved no casualty; and now this.
I take everything as a sign, and I'm sure I'd be awful to be around if only I had any idea WHAT each thing were a sign FOR. As it is, I usually just mutter, "That felt awfully significant," and move on with my life. Which, now that I've spent the last 45 minutes vacuuming, I guess I will. But: Weird.
In other news, and aside from the major weirdness recorded above, today was much better. What makes one day so significantly better than the next? Dunno. Maybe Jez was in a better mood; maybe I was. Maybe it's that the Flonase seems to be working on my allergies (thank you cousin Jeff!) and I can actually breathe. Maybe it was just my turn for a lousy day yesterday; I've had a great string of good ones. Who knows. I'm just grateful for today--and for yesterday, too, for comparison's sake.
P.S. Chickens are still pissed off about their new digs. Ty is getting moderatly better with them. Rhone fell down the driveway today and got road rash; cried about 90 seconds; then this evening cried for 10 minutes because "my owies are still on." "Do they hurt?" "No, but they're still on!!"