“Now I know for sure that the Lord has sent forth His angel and rescued me…”
Our 3-quart pot burned in an attempt to humidify the Pit of Despair. Normally I would say I blackened it, but actually by some strange alchemy the smooth black bottom transformed to a flaky white disaster. This makes me wonder if some metaphor for life is hidden in that sad event and the cost of its reparation, which hovers around $50.
Walking in the windy rain today, my sad little red-and-blue plaid umbrella (which usually receives mercy and stays dry in the garage in such inclement weather) flipped itself inside-out several times. I felt more sorry for the umbrella with tis spindly spider-legs struggling against the harsh gusts than I did for my occasional wetness.