gravy catastrophe

Somewhere in the midst of all the Thanksgiving afternoon eating, I managed to drop the gravy boat. And this was not your ordinary dropping of the gravy boat. What happened, in no particular order:

- gravy was dropped (well, obviously this happened first)
- my food was covered in gravy grease
- my wine glass tipped over onto my cousin's plate (though he went ahead and ate the wine-soaked turkey and almost liked it)
- gravy glopped all over our side of the table, and the floor, which happened to be the carpet in the middle of the living room (perhaps we'll eat downstairs again next time)
- grease splashed on the couch behind me (again, eating downstairs)
- grease got on various articles of clothing of the three cousins to my left
- my wardrobe staple brown sweater from Gap is forever ruined
- the edge of my plate cracked such that it, too, was forever ruined

If anything, I was reminded of two things. One, no wonder I cried when spilling something or breaking something when I was little; it's traumatic! Two, as a host I would have been as gracious as my mother, who had to remind me quite a few times that none of this was a big deal. Sheesh.